Backfire
by CrashCourse1.0
Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down? Reid!centric. R&R!
1. and so it begins

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Note(s): **

_Italics are MOSTLY thoughts, and if not, emphasis or background noise. _**Bold**** means its a memory or flashback. _Bold and italicised can mean a lot of things, but mainly it applies for whatever speech that occurs in a memory._**

**Also! This story will be told from the point of view of everybody (mostly Reid, Hotch, Morgan and Gideon though), from Maggie, Lila, all the way to Morgan and Reid. The characterization will probably be rather spotty now and then, but I can't see this story told in any other way. So here goes nothing.**

**Read if you dare?**

* * *

The door bangs open. The sound echoes across the threshold like a gunshot, making Derek wince. Behind him, he can hear Hotch hissing into his comm – _go around back, surround the house. Make sure no one gets in or out_ – and feel Elle's taut presence on his right.

The place is quiet, far too quiet for his liking. The lights are still on in the living room. His partner moves past him, her quick steps muffled by the carpeting.

Derek's comm crackles emptily as he tugs it out. He doesn't need distractions now, he needs to focus. But for some reason, Penelope's frantic voice from their earlier conversation is still ringing in his ears.

**_Derek, its Reid. Reid's in trouble._**

A grim 'Clear' from Elle pushes them deeper into the building. Hotch stops them in the middle in the hallway. On the right there is a partition blocking the living area from view, and beyond that Derek knows that it's the pool. Straight ahead is the kitchen, the photo collage they deconstructed is still laid out haphazardly on the table. There's no one there.

"Morgan," Hotch's voice cuts through his thoughts, "you and Elle will take the bedrooms. I will take the pool."

**_The girl. The girl is in the house with them. She wants Lila._**

"Remember, she is armed."

The leader's eyes sweeps over them.

"Go."

Derek leads, treading ahead and takes the first door on the right. It swings open easily. No one.

"Clear."

"Clear." Elle responds similarly.

**_Please, Derek, get him back._**

He backs out of the room.

**_Get Reid back._**

"Maggie Lowe?" Elle's voice rings out, steady, firm. "Maggie Lowe, FBI."

No answer.

Then—

_Crash!_

Derek jumps at the sound. He feels movement behind him and suddenly, there is someone's breathing into his ear.

"What's that sound?"

It's Elle. Derek lets go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Don't know."

Up front, they can see an open door. Master bedroom. Derek inches forward, feeling Elle move with him.

"Maggie Lowe? FBI!"

There are no sounds this time. She knows. It takes a few moments, but Derek has had enough with this bitch.

"Come on."

They swing into the room, guns pointing every which way. Derek takes in the scene, the dresser lights are on, the items on the table scattered all over the floor, along with a broken lamp by the bedside table. The sheets at the corner of the bed are crumpled in the corner with—

Blood.

Derek's eyes move from the stains, feeling as though there's ice in his veins when they lead to a pair of familiar, sneakered feet sticking out from behind the bed—

"Reid!"

His gun is holstered in a second and he is at the kid's side by the next. Elle is snapping into her communicator for Hotch, a medic, an ambulance, anyone as she drops down beside Derek.

The boy is so, so still, Derek is almost certain he's dead. There's blood down the side of his face .Elle presses two fingers to his neck _— pulse, there's a pulse —_ while his hands automatically shift over the biggest, most obvious injury he can spot; the blossom of red right in the middle of his abdomen, just below his sternum. Derek growls, trying not to recoil at the lukewarm sensation as he applies pressure to the open wound.

"Dammit! Reid? Kid, can you hear me?"

Reid doesn't move, his face bone-white in the dim light of the room. His eyes stay shut.

"Reid? Hey, hey…" the woman presses a hand to the side of the boy's face. The damp shirt squelches grotesquely under Derek's hands.

Hotch is beside them (_How did he even get here?_), radioing the medics (_again_). Reid is not waking, there is so much blood, everywhere.

"Spencer." A shiver runs down Derek's spine at the gentleness in Elle's voice.

Pause.

"E-Elle?" His voice quavers thinly, but God, it was the most beautiful sound they've ever heard. It takes a moment, but Reid manages a raspy breath and his hazel orbs blink open.

"Glad you're with us, kid."

The kid's eyes dart back and forth, disoriented.

"Hey, kid. Kid!" Derek's bark causes the young man to start. His gaze locks on the older man. "Look here. Stay with us, you hear me?"

Reid takes far too long to register his statement, then tries to nod but ends up coughing. The coughing turns into wheezing. They watch worriedly as he turns his head and spits up a reddish-black substance.

Internal bleeding. Not good.

"Where are those damn medics—"

The kid rests a trembling hand on his. Squeezes. The young man's eyes are ridiculously bright and his bloodless lips are tinged with red and quivering, forming soundless words, between gasps. Derek leans closer as the room door bursts open, voices—

"She's got Lila."

Then he hears Elle cry out and pulls back in time to see Spencer Reid, young, brilliant, twenty-four years old, _best friend_, begin to seize. They can only stare in horror as his eyes roll back into his head and his face suddenly becomes too white.

Then they're being pushed aside by paramedics (_sorry sir, but you have to move—he's going into hypovolemic shock, we're losing him—_) and all he knows is that Reid's blood is still dripping from his fingers, thick as syrup, onto his shoes.

It's still warm.

* * *

**A/N: **

_**Hello! I hope you enjoyed the chapter? This is my first time writing for a TV show, especially a show like Criminal Minds. The action and movements were really hard to write in; I tried my best? Please don't hate me. **_

_**I'll try my best to post as regularly as I can, but 2014 is going to be a very busy year for me, so I don't know if I can update that often. Probably every few weeks or so. In the meantime, thanks a lot for reading, drop a review for me please? I'm still looking to improve my writing, so comments of any and every kind would be greatly appreciated:)**_


	2. keeping time

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst. _

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that something is wrong when none of your teammates are answering their phones. Missed calls on active cases raise flags, so Jason takes leaf from Morgan's book and drops a call to Garcia.

"Sir?" The girl sounds breathless, anxious. The absence of her usually chipper greeting is not lost on him.

"Where are the others?"

"I don't know, sir, I'm not sure. The unsub—"

"Maggie Lowe."

"Yes, Maggie. See, sir, she was inside Lila's house when she called Lila, and Reid was on the phone with me and then—"

"Slow down." Garcia's breath hitches and Gideon's mind is already forming scenarios when she regains her composure.

"Now," Jason turns to see JJ brisk in, phone at her ear and talking so fast he could barely see her mouth move. "Calm down, and let's start from the beginning, alright?"

"Okay… Okay. So, earlier this evening, Reid was at Lila Archer's place. You and Morgan and Elle were at the gallery, Hotch was on his way to Lila's to check in with Reid."

"Yes, shortly after we figured out it was Maggie Lowe, I sent Elle and Morgan to Hotch; they were going to rendezvous with Hotch and set out for Maggie's apartment. I came back to the station to rework a geographical profile to see where else she could be."

"Yes, but then, sir, what I get is a call from Reid _seconds_ after Morgan pages me that the unsub is Maggie Lowe, and all Reid says is that he needs a trace on a call to Lila's phone. The call was being made from inside her house—"

Without warning, Jason's blood runs cold. It is a horribly familiar feeling.

"— Sir?"

"Yes." Jason "Yes, I'm listening. Please, continue."

"The trace is to Maggie Lowe's cellphone, the records came up as soon as I tracked it so I told Reid that I would send back-up to where he and Lila were. Then he hung up and I haven't heard from them since."

"Their cells? Hotch? Morgan, Elle?" He asks, even though he knows the answer.

"I tried sir, they're not picking up."

"How about Lila's home?"

"That too. Sir, I have a bad feeling about this…" Garcia trails off. The dead air is anything but pleasant.

"Sir." Its JJ. She is looking at him, phone in her hand. The expression on her face makes him stop.

"What—"

"Maggie got away. She took Lila."

Oh.

"And Hotch? Elle, Morgan, Reid?"

"Elle called. The police have set up roadblocks in the vicinity leading down from Lila's estate. Morgan is on his way to Maggie's place with some officers, Hotch is coming back here."

"Reid? How about Reid, JJ?"

She hesitates. "He's on his way to the hospital. Elle's riding with him. Hotch coming back to pick us up and meet her there."

"Oh God." Garcia says the words on his mind and before he can respond, she hangs up and leaves him with a tone.

"How long." Jason forces out, hands automatically reaching for his coat and his wallet and his badge.

"What do you—"

"How long more do we have before Hotch comes around?"

"Uh. About 5 minutes."

"Our go-bags are—?"

"In the hotel, sir."

"Send an officer to pick Reid's up."

He glances up and sees JJ fixing him with perplexed, helpless stare.

"Sir?"

"He'll be okay, but he probably needs a change of clothes. He fell into the pool earlier."

"Sir—" She falls quiet at his gaze. "Okay. I'll get an officer on it."

JJ walks out of the room again and returns in less than a minute.

"Done?"

"Done."

"Let's go."

"Let's—"

"Let's go." He repeats. In his peripheral vision, he can see her mouth open slightly in askance, before closing.

Jason's eyes fall on the table as she grabs her black purse and cardigan. He spots Reid's glasses, resting on top of the messages Maggie Lowe sent to Lila, with the latest being the angry note written on crumpled yellow stationery. It's smoothed out and the boy had circled several words on the paper.

"Sir?"

He picks the glasses up. Slips it in his pocket carefully. Hopes it won't break.

"Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: **

**I know, I know. I said there wasn't going to be an update, but here we are! I just felt like posting something and plus, this chapter is really quite short, so why not? ****This story is moving faster (in terms of my writing speed) than I thought it would. I've got it planned out, so I'll try to finish it soon? Once its done I can start to post more regularly, perhaps every two days or so, like what I used to do with my other fics.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed ^^ have a good day, see you soon! (Hopefully) Please drop a comment or two as well, I'd love to hear what you think:)**


	3. tears and rain

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

Elle's eyes are glistening as she throws herself into JJ's arms. She's shaking so hard that JJ thinks the woman might fall apart if she lets go.

Hotch and Gideon makes a beeline for the nurses' office and both of them are up against the counter, badges out and talking immediately. JJ cannot fathom what it would be like to be on the opposite side of the conversation.

Her shoulder grows wet. "Elle. Elle, hey…"

They move to the seats at the side. They are hard, plastic and terribly cold against her back.

"Sorry." She hears the woman murmur as she pulls away, swiping furiously at her tears, "Sorry. God, I must be crazy. I'm losing it, aren't I?"

"It's only natural." JJ tries, in what she hopes is a soothing tone. Elle gazes up. Her make-up is running. A streak of mascara decorates her angular cheekbone.

"JJ…"

"It's ok. It's… everything is going to be fine." It's the only thing she knows how to say. A tremor has made its way into her voice, the last word falters like her hand on Elle's back. If the profiler in Elle knows that JJ doesn't even know what she's saying, that profiler is not saying a word.

They both start and turn as Hotch's raised voice resonates down the hallway. JJ thinks Hotch face is harder than stone and Gideon looks lost. Neither observation comforts her. Not one bit.

The nurse says something in a placating tone, then picks up a phone, eyes darting warily from Hotch, to Gideon, then back to Hotch again.

The disturbance passes quickly, but it takes a couple of moments before the brunette speaks again.

"Have you called Garcia?"

"No. I'm waiting for Hotch and Gideon to come back with more details before I give her a call and ask her to come. But knowing Penelope, she's probably booking a flight right now."

Elle laughs shakily, "Yeah."

They both go quiet. JJ feels her eyes drift, taking in their surroundings. She's never liked hospital. Too many tragedies, too much death. They meet enough monsters on their job, but here in hospital, it's just as bad. Every case failed means lives lost and families broken.

"They lost him, you know." Her head snaps back when Elle starts again, voice low and gaze fixed on a spot on the whitewashed walls. JJ's heart skips a beat and her throat closes up.

"They lost him," Elle repeats, as if she can't quite believe it herself, "And then he came back."

She almost chokes on the dry air when she speaks, "Of course. Our Reid's is a fighter."

"Yeah, I know that much." Elle laughs softly, and JJ feels like crying. "But, Jesus Christ, JJ. There were three minutes in between. We lost him for three minutes, I counted every second."

The woman turns and their eyes lock, brown on blue.

"Every second."

JJ swallows the sour taste in her throat and pulls Elle close. This time, it's not just her shoulder that's wet.

**x-x-x-x-x**

There's water running down her back. The feeling makes her want to sob.

"There, all cleaned up! Now we're all set."

Maggie's smiling face injects itself into her line of sight. Upon seeing Lila's expression, she frowns, quite suddenly.

"C'mon hun. Give me a smile, won't you? We're almost done!"

_**Done?**_ The thought reverberates hysterically in her numb brain as she forces her lips to curve.

"There'ya go! That's the pretty Lila I know!" A stack of neatly folded clothes finds its way into her cold, damp hands, "You should get changed, we're leaving in 5."

When she's finally alone in the room, Lila staggers to her feet. The bathroom floor is icy under her bare feet, the overhead light is a clear amber and the mirror reflects the entirety of that tiny bathroom, herself included, which only makes her feel more naked. Her new brown hair shines in the light, and her cut fringe brushes her eyelashes.

Lila's hands are shaking so badly she can barely pull the woollen sweater over her head.

It's only after she gets the jeans on that the tingling behind her eyes turns into a fire and she stuffs her fist into her mouth because she can't let Maggie hear her crying. Her skin feels cold, the soft fabric of the sweater presses lightly on her skin. She's clothed, fresh and clean.

**Then she feels the pulsing of thick blood beneath her hands, the smell of hot metal as she swipes at the tears on her face.**

As quickly as the feeling comes, it disappears. Lila's standing alone once again, in the hotel bathroom with her drenched, desolate reflection staring emptily back at her. She shuts her eyes. and opens them. Shuts them. Opens.

Shuts.

Opens.

There's an urge to tear the clothes off her body and duck back under the shower and get clean. But she can't; Maggie will hear. Instead, she does the next best thing which is to turn on the tap. The icy water floods out and she starts to scrub, scrub, scrub so hard on her hands she thought her skin might start peeling and fall away.

But for some reason, the blood just won't come off.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**The POV switches are going to happen quite often, so we can get a more well-rounded view of the story. I'm going to be posting regularly from here on out, tentatively every 3 days or so. So keep reading! And also, please review, I promise I won't bite. I'd love to hear what you all think of this story so far, really, so please please review tyvmkthxbai**_

_**P.S. : sorry if Elle seems a little OOC, I'm not entirely sure how to write her but I tried my best so hopefully its fine /crosses fingers/**_


	4. questions with no answers

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

"Spencer Reid's family?"

Elle lifts her head up just in time to see a middle-aged, brunette doctor walk in. JJ stiffens beside her, Gideon's pacing stops and Derek straightens up from his waiting stance by the door.

Hotch gets off the phone with Haley and steps forward, badge out. "That will be us."

The doctor gives them a skeptical once over, then her gaze falls to the badge and she decides better. She holds out a hand, smiling pleasantly.

"Dr. Lisbon."

"Aaron Hotchner. How is Reid?"

The brunette clears her throat and flips open the file, scanning the details with a practiced eye.

"Mr Reid—"

"Doctor," Derek cuts, "its Doctor. Dr. Reid."

"Alright. Dr. Reid is out of surgery, stable but critical." She says and Elle feels her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. "We have just moved him from Recovery to the ICU."

"How bad is it?"

_Well Hotch, if it's ICU_, Elle thinks, attempting sarcasm to try and mask the ice creeping into her veins, _it must be pretty bad._

"I was just getting there. He has a grade II concussion from blunt force trauma to the side of the head. Thankfully, there are no fractures, just some contusions and deep cut. He'll likely have headaches for a while, but that is expected."

Dr. Lisbon thumbed down the page, continuing, "He sustained a gunshot wound to the thoracic cavity. A gun was fired at point blank range, there is a muzzle burn where the bullet entered. The bullet broke two ribs, fractured one. We fixed muscle tears and set the ribs in surgery. After he was brought in, we belatedly detected that the penetrating wound to his chest also caused what we call a sucking chest wound, or pneumothorax. His right lung collapsed; we had to drain the excess air and correct the bleeding simultaneously. Luckily, his body responded well to the treatment; the collapsed lung has re-inflated and will heal with time."

"Was that why," Elle found herself stuttering, "was that why when we found him, he was—"

"The lung was bleeding internally and slowly becoming edematous." The doctor hesitates. A flash of pain darts across her eyes, then vanishes in an instant.

"He was drowning in his own blood, yes."

Elle feels JJ's grip on her hand subtly tighten. Derek looks like he's about to punch a hole in the wall and Gideon is unnaturally pale.

"A few more things," Dr. Lisbon looks back to the board. "On its way out, the bullet also nicked the aortic artery, causing him to hemorrhage pretty severely before exiting from his back. Along with the bleeding in his lung, Dr. Reid has lost a lot of blood. We are still administering transfusions but there's only so much we can do."

The woman releases a small breath as she closes the file, "We also have him on a ventilator to take some stress off his lungs, with the only concern being that this course of treatment might cause his weakened lung, the one with the pneumothorax, to collapse again. It is not an uncommon occurrence. While we want to minimise the damage, think it'd be more ideal for him to be on the ventilator, rather than off. It is difficult to tell how things will turn out right now, but we'll be monitoring him closely. It's all up to him now."

The quiet following her evaluation prompted the good doctor to raise her eyes once again, only to meet the grave stare of Aaron Hotchner.

"Thank you, Dr. Lisbon. When can we see him?"

The lady's gaze is piercing. She takes a moment, looking over each one of their faces, lingering on Elle's destroyed make-up and JJ's red-rimmed eyes before answering slowly.

"I usually don't recommend patients to entertain visitors after major surgery but if you all really want to see him, I'm sure looking through a glass panel is permissible. I can't allow anyone to enter, he's under sedation but your voices might bring him out of it. His body not ready for that, he's still very, very weak." She hesitates, "Perhaps later tomorrow. After his last check tonight, I will put in a request for the nurses to allow a visitor or two."

Hotch nods, glancing over his shoulder and shooting his team a glance.

"We understand. So…?"

"To Dr. Reid?"

Elle is on her feet faster than anyone else. Everyone turns to her when she speaks, voice steady.

"Lead the way."

x-x-x-x-x

"Lila? Lila, we have to go!"

The girl grits her teeth against the cold and the threatening rush of warmth to her cheeks.

_Goddammit. Stop crying, Lila._

The self-reprimand starts to work just as the main door of the hotel room swings open and Maggie puts her head around it. Her similarly brown hair has been scissored short and frames her curious face. Lila fixed her on smile the best she could, like she often did for the camera.

"Coming!" the flash of insecurity in Maggie's eyes disappears and she grins from ear to ear. The rapid shift of moods makes Lila want to run as far away as she can from this... this lunatic.

"Come along then, I got a nice big truck for us, a SUV! It's almost brand new, and I got it just for this trip! Come on babe, I want you to see!"

She hurries out with her coat; Maggie passes her a few bags to carry as she locks up the room. The girl links arms with her as they walk down the hall. Lila stiffens instinctively.

_Oh no. oh nonono._

It takes less than a second for Maggie to round up on Lila.

"Li, what is it this time?" When she doesn't respond, the other girl scowls, "seriously, babe. I'm getting kind of tired of your attitude. If you're thinking about the good-for-nothing dead bastard again, instead of the future I've spent my whole life planning for us, then—"

"Mags, Mags, calm down" Lila manages, frantically grasping at straws in her head, "I was just feelin' a little cold from the shower that's all. The shower was cold, my hair's still wet."

When Maggie doesn't speak, Lila heart quickens. Anxious, she starts again.

"And then," Maggie's blue eyes seem to be staring right through her. It was terribly disconcerting, "and then I was thinking about that time you mentioned earlier remember? Then one where we spent a weekend in your room."

"I thought you said it was nothing."

"I was being stupid, Mags! That FBI agent told me to lie, lie to you, I didn't know why but when he suddenly said that I said I loved him, I knew he was lying to me as well. I never said that I love him. He was lying Mags, he was trying to keep me from getting to you." She smiled as sweetly as she could, "but now we're together right? Now we can spend all the time in the world together, every day would be amazing, just like that weekend we spent in your room."

_**She sees Spencer's stunned expression before he falls to the ground.**_

The girl appears unconvinced. "When did you realize that he was lying to you?"

"Just now, when we were driving away." She swallowed her nervousness, "I realized how important you were to me, and everything you ever said sunk in."

Her friend's eyes lit up and she couldn't keep a small smile off her face. Lila swallowed again.

_You're an actress, Lila. You're an actress. Just give her a good show._

"I was so stupid, Mags." She said softly, hoping that she sounded placatory and loving, "so naïve and stupid. You were here all along, I should have seen you."

_**Spencer. Trying to get up. Trying to help her. Trying.**_

It worked. Maggie remained silent, but she linked arms with her once again and with a nudge, they were walking down the hall, into the elevator.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you, Li. I was jus'… I was jus' angry, that's all." Lila has to stop herself from jumping when Maggie bangs her fist on the elevator wall. "I just keep thinking of that fucking kid who lied to me. I'm glad he's gone."

_**A strange expression crosses Maggie's face. She lets go of Lila and— no—**_

"Yeah," Lila hears herself breathe as she closes her eyes. "Good riddance."

* * *

**A/N:**

_**I'm just going to keep this short because I need to go off!**_

_**I'm switching around POVs, but one way to determine whose point of view I'm writing from is by the names. Most the characters refer to themselves by their first names, except Reid (there is a valid reason for this, I'll explain as the chapters go on), and they refer to the other characters differently. **_

_**i.e. JJ , Gideon and Lila refer to Reid as Spencer, the rest think of him as Reid. **_

_**This is a very tiny detail, but I felt like I just had to put it out here. Not sure why.**_

_****__**Hmmm what else... OH. I'll just like to put it out there that I'm not medically trained, so some of the medical conditions and descriptions of Reid's condition might be inaccurate. I tried my best to make is as believable as possible, and I apologize if it falls short of your expectations.**_

_**Alright! I got to go! Thanks for reading:) Please review if you can! Bye~**_


	5. on a wing

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

Aaron doesn't approach the glass first, Gideon does. He watches as the older man stops, presses a hand on the glass and becomes so still that Aaron thinks he might have turned into stone.

Elle is no longer crying, but now she's still hanging onto JJ. Or was it the other way round? He couldn't really tell. They've been this way since JJ got off the phone with a very hysterical Garcia, who had jumped on the first flight to LA as soon as she caught a wind of the news from Gideon. Aaron is trying to figure out what they should do once Garcia reaches, but his mind is running in dizzying circles so it might take a while for him to reach a conclusion.

So he stays in the background, watching the team. The silence helps.

It takes a moment, but Aaron realizes that Morgan has hung back with him. His colleague is scared; he can feel it. The anger, the guilt and the _fear_, is practically radiating off the younger man.

"Morgan." The man is jumpy, and tired. His face is unnaturally drawn and his hands have curled into fists upon Aaron's call.

The unit chief looks him in the eye.

"Go on."

He hesitates.

"Hotch, what if—"

"Reid would want to see you."

The mere sound of their friend's name makes Morgan straighten up.

"Go on."

Aaron moves with his agent, up to the glass.

From where they are standing, Aaron realizes as he gets closer, there is surprising little they can see. The bed against the wall on the right and the curtains are drawn midway so all they see is Reid's feet covered by a thin woollen hospital blanket. On the other side of the bed is a cluster of bleeping, blinking machines. If he moves to the far side of the glass panel, he can see part of the young agent's bare and heavily bandaged torso, half-covered by the sheets. Other than that, it's just a lot of wires, tubes and dripping IVs of blood and saline. He can't even see Reid's face.

He's not sure if he wants to.

But the very thought that he's there, he's still in there and he's fighting is overwhelmingly comforting. Aaron doesn't know when he'd placed his hand on the viewing pane as well. Suddenly there's a cold, smooth hand on his. JJ.

Then Elle, and Morgan. Then Gideon.

In that split second, the solemn, comforting weight of all their hands on that fragile piece of glass touches Aaron somewhere deep, somewhere in his core. He feels cold and warm, all at once

Reid's alive, they haven't lost him. They haven't failed him. He was in a bad place right now, but he'll get out. He'll come through for himself, for them.

He always has.

x-x-x-x-x

Maggie is humming along to some country tune on the radio that Lila doesn't recognize. They're speeding along the streets of LA. Her hands are itching for the handle. If she could, and I the damn car wasn't travelling at 40 miles an hour, she'd just throw the door open and make a run for it.

As the song trails off, Maggie turn and shoots her a grin.

"Isn't this fun, Lila? Just the two of us, on a road trip together. It's like we're back in Julliard again!"

"Y-yeah. It's so exhilarating." She returns the other girl a stiff smile, glad that it is dark so she can't see her tears. "This is so fun, Mags."

She returned her eyes to the road, looking smug, "Told you so! Man I can't wait to get out of this town—"

Just then, the radio DJ's came back on.

'**Hey everybody, we're sorry to have to interrupt, but we're here in the studio with some breaking news! Tell 'em Matt!'**

'**Right on it. It seems like earlier this evening, rising star Lila Archer was kidnapped by her long-time stalker, a woman by the name of Maggie Lowe. Now that's something you don't hear every day.'**

'**Damn right. It appears that Maggie broke into Lila's place, oh and get this, Matt, she put a fed in the hospital!'**

It takes a second for the sentence to sink in, then Maggie's face turns ashen and the car is swerving into the side lane. They skid to a halt at the road shoulder in a chorus of horns and screeching tyres.

"What?" Lila recoils as the other girl spits viciously, eyes fixed on the radio.

'**What?' **the DJ echoes,** 'The feds are in town?'**

'**Yeah, yeah. They're helping out with the investigation. They were the ones that linked all those Beverly Hill murders to Lila's stalker.'**

'**Good heavens. Ok so how about that fed? How is he, Donnie?'**

'**Fine, I think. Critical. They're saying he might pull through.'**

"No. No, no, no! But I put a bullet in his chest! I put it there! He died!" Maggie bashed her hands against the wheel, her face contorted in anger. Lila shrinks, trying hard not to sob.

'**Lila's still out there, though?'**

'**Yeah, that's what we came back on to talk about. Listen folks! Lila Archer is still being held hostage by the Maggie lady, keep a look out. If you don't know what they look like, LAPD is running the news reading every hour, so check it out.'**

'**That's right. Oh and Donnie, I almost forgot, this Maggie Lowe is armed and dangerous. She's mad. Has a gun an' all. So be careful if you see them, just call—'**

The radio is punched off.

"That bastard." The growl sounds almost feral.

"He." Punch.

"Told." Hit.

"Them." Hit.

"I." Punch.

"Was." Hit.

"Crazy?" She roars, smashing both fists into the battered steering wheel so hard, Lila is sure it would split in two.

"How could he? How is he still alive?!" she howled.

Just then, it clicked. An opening.

"Mags." It takes a few calls for Maggie to respond.

"What?" she sounds agitated, furious. Lila recalled Spencer telling her in passing, when personalities like Maggie start to unravel, they unravel very quickly. She should play along to her fantasies.

"We should go see him. Teach him a lesson."

Maggie's face goes blank.

"We should go," Lila tries again, stronger this time, "He can't have been brought too far from my place if he's critical, so he's probably in St. Patrick's Hospital. We can fake our way in, or get some nurse uniforms…"

She watches as the idea sets in. Lila doesn't know how or where she pulled that idea out from but it was working. The other girl is clearly excited. The feverish quality of her bright eyes is unsettling.

"You are," she intones, voice quivering with anticipation and adoration, "a genius, Li."

Lila chuckles, feeling her laughter hitch on a slightly hysterical note. Luckily, Maggie didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I know."

The car starts and Maggie pulls them back onto the road. In the dim light of the street lamp, Lila sees a manic grin twist Maggie's placid features. She suddenly felt sick and tries not to whimper.

What has she gotten them into?

x-x-x-x-x

"I'm here." Is all it takes for JJ and Elle to leap to their feet and engulf a very ruffled and dazed-looking Penelope Garcia in a bone-crushing hug. The woman herself is trembling, Jason can tell from the reflection of the viewing glass. He takes one more glance at the still figure lying in a cocoon of machinery and tangled wires before turning to greet the last member of their makeshift family.

"Penelope."

She nods in acknowledgement. "Sir."

Morgan doesn't move from his post that the far end of the glass, where one can get the clearest view of their youngest. Jason does not miss the glance Penelope shoots JJ, who shakes her head. The colorful woman bustles over and Jason moves away, hopefully to give them some privacy.

"So what do we do now Hotch?" Elle asks, voice smooth and professional once again. She seems to have gotten over her earlier shock from riding in the ambulance. Seeing a friend and fellow agent have to fight for his or her life is not an experience you just walk away from. It leaves a mark.

He knows it all too well.

"We go back to the hotel." Raising a hand at the protests that were about to come, Aaron continues, "This case is still very much active. We have put out an APB but she's organized, smart. She knows how to hide her tracks, hide herself. She's still in the state but soon, roadblocks won't stop her."

"How do you know that? How do you know she's not on her way to Las Vegas and God knows where else?"

"She has Lila with her, remember? After JJ's press conference earlier and the information we released to the radios and TV stations, everyone will be on a lookout for them. Any two blonde, white women seen together would raise some form of suspicion. But knowing Maggie, she'll find her way around it."

"She's also devolving because of what happened tonight." Jason continues, ignoring the eyes that fall on him. "She shot at Detective Kim and Morgan, but with extremely haphazardly. Same goes for Reid. She's moving from headshots, which are clinical and efficient ways of killing, to chest shots, which allow the victims to bleed out and suffer. If those are not signs of her coming apart, I don't know what is."

"So why are we going back to the hotel?" A voice interrupts. Morgan is standing behind JJ, his arm around Garcia. "Shouldn't we be out in the streets, combing?"

"No, we need rest. All of us are exhausted from all the chasing and worrying. Pushing ourselves to work right now would be detrimental to the case and dangerous for Lila. We need to rest and regroup. So now, I'm sending everyone back to the hotel, get some shut eye. We'll meet back at the station, 5am sharp. Do not come back here. I will check the visitor logs and if any of you try to come here you'll hear from me. Is everyone clear?"

"Crystal." Elle mutters. Jason nods curtly, before turning back to the glass panel. He steps away from the group, knowing that JJ is probably going to start attempting to help Garcia find accommodation, followed by Morgan offering her his bed, he'll sleep on the floor. The whole thing will take about 15 minutes, which means he has 15 more minutes with Spencer, albeit separated by a piece of glass. But it's all that he needs.

The glass is a layer of ice under his callused palm. He tries to picture Spencer. Tries.

Tries not to think of the agents he lost in the explosion. Tries.

He doesn't even remember that the boy's spectacles are in his pocket until they're in the car. Jason feels a thin sliver of coldness digging into his thigh, and he manages to fish the glasses out of his pocket as Aaron maneuvers the vehicle out of the parking lot. Hold it carefully in his unsteady hand. Thinks of the last time he saw his young friend wearing it.

It helps.

* * *

**A/N: **

_**I realized while reading through my drafts that I really like to drag out things. One evening lasts about 7 chapters? What? But it speeds up towards the end so... (I don't even know why I'm telling you this)**_

_**I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! I just want to send a huge huge thank you to all the people who reviewed and everybody who's reading this:) I reply reviews via PM but I don't know if the PMs actually get to you safely... oh well whatever**_

_**This has been a really pointless and confused A/N. Bye.**_


	6. out of reach

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

It's a little past 2am when they finally reach St. Patrick's. They could've gotten there earlier, if not for the roadblocks and Lila, who insisted that she had to use the washroom at the gas station. She wanted to put on some light make-up. Maggie scoffs at the thought. It's so late at night, who's going to see her face?

Then she remembers herself softening at the sight of Lila, coming out from the station, crossing the road. The wind was blowing and her hands were in the pockets of her jeans but most importantly, Maggie could see her face. God. She looked so beautiful in the glow of the streetlights. So enchanting.

They decided to go with the ruse of distraught family members of Spencer Reid. They even looked the part, bottle-dyed brown hair and all. It had also been her brilliant idea to cut Lila's fringe and to scissor her own hair short. Now they were both brunettes, they even had brown eyes, thanks to the contacts she bought.

The parking lots are almost all empty when they pull in, and they sit in the car and stall for a while, discussing their plan.

"Alright, so I'll take the lead, Li, you can just follow ok?"

"Mmm." Her friend had been rather quiet since the gas station. Probably nerves. Lila never put on a façade to people in real life before. But it's probably the same as getting in front of the camera.

"So, what are we?"

"…" she glances over at Lila and sees her gazing out of the window, clearly not paying attention.

In an instant, Maggie feels rage build up behind her eyes. She's not listening.

"Lila. Listen to me. What, is whatever you're looking out of the window more important than me?!"

The words bring her friend back immediately. "Sorry, Mags."

She relaxes at her nickname. Lila's voice is smooth and calming. Her eyes are glinting in the dim light, bright with anticipation. Maggie feels the same anticipation course through her veins, and she beams at her friend. No. her partner now. They're partners. And when time comes, they'll be lovers. Lila chose her, and she wants Lila. So why not?

"It's alright. So we're going to go up to the counter and check in as Janet McPherson and Rachel Cain. We are?"

"Best friends."

"Good. Janet McPherson is?"

"Spencer Reid's stepsister. She's married. Her husband's last name is McPherson, that's why she goes by Janet McPherson now."

"Fantastic. Now you just keep to acting like you're upset. Let me do the talking."

"Okay."

"Ready?"

"Born ready." Maggie felt a smile grace her lips. That's her Lila.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

x-x-x-x-x

The hospital is pretty empty. Probably because it's only two in the morning. Maggie links arms with Lila again as they go down the halls. There is no security of any kind, no police officers about, which is incredible, given how the entire city was in near lockdown. Roadblocks everywhere, looking for them.

She almost giggles when she recalls how easy it was to get past them. They're all over the place, looking for blondes. It would be ages before they finally realized, and by then, she and her Lila would be gone.

They step into an elevator and the doors ping shut. It takes a tad too long for Maggie's liking and somewhere in between they stop and people interrupt their time together. It takes every fiber of Maggie's being to keep herself from putting bullets in all their heads.

_Go away, leave us alone!_ She glares into the back of the unsuspecting orderlies' heads.

The ICU is white-walled, beige-floored and empty. Wandering into the ward is also surprisingly easy. The night shift nurses are making their rounds; there's no one at the nurses station. She makes Lila stand around the corner such that she is hidden from the security cameras planted at the reception.

"Stay here, ok?"

Lila bobs her head. Maggie is just about to turn and leave when a nagging thought surfaces.

**What if she runs?**

She growls inwardly.

_No, she won't._ _She's on my side._

Lila is looking back at her, her now hazel eyes glistening.

**Are you sure? What will you do when she runs?**

Icy rage surges through her veins.

_I'll make sure she doesn't._

Before Lila can blink, Maggie is up against her, mouth pressed to her cold left ear and handgun pressed to her side. She feels the girl freeze.

"Try to run, and I'll shoot up the entire ward, then you and me. If you don't want everyone dead, you've got to stay here, darling. Okay?"

A tingle of electricity runs down her spine when she hears Lila swallow.

"I won't run. Promise."

"Good girl." Maggie is grinning as she pulls back. Their eyes lock.

She never knew that fear could look so beautiful.

Her footsteps resound in the hallway as she strides up to the counter and takes a quick flip through the log book of the past few hours.

_No, no, no, no, no… yes!_

Her face brightens at a _Dr. Spencer Reid_, _Room 102. _Lila was spot on, she thinks proudly. Maggie also gleefully notes that his entire team had checked in at 11pm, before leaving around midnight. She doubt they'd be coming back soon, they probably think that Maggie Lowe and Lila Archer were still out there and will probably go running all over town, screwing themselves silly just to find them.

"Excuse me, miss. May I help you?" she almost jumps, and sighs in relief when she sees that it's only one of the nurses.

"Oh no, sorry, I need to tell my other friend that we found the correct ward, we've been searching for ages!" As she walks to the place where Lila is leaning against the wall, she sees the nurse follow in the corner of her eye.

"Janet! Janet!" Her friend turns at her voice. Her eyes widen at the sight of the nurse behind Maggie, "Your brother, he's in room 102, right?"

"Wh— Um…" Maggie's eyes narrow as Lila quickly collects herself. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what Agent Gideon told me, over the phone."

She beckons the girl as subtly as possible; Maggie feels strangely exhilarated to see that she readily complies. She puts her arm through Lila's as the night nurse glances at her clipboard, gray eyes speeding down the patient summaries in her hand, "Your relation to Mr Spencer Reid is…?"

"Oh, I'm his stepsister, hi. It's Janet McPherson."

"Hello, Miss McPherson and Miss…?"

"Cain. Rachel Cain. "

"Miss McPherson and Miss Cain, nice to meet you both." The nurse smiles, "I'm afraid that visiting hours are long over. I can't let you in. Mr Reid's doctor has cleared him for visitors tomorrow, however. You are perfectly welcome to return in the morning."

_**Dammit.**_

"But we're kind of in a rush. You see, I have to get to San Diego and we have to be back on the road before 6." She pleads, feeling Lila's eyes on her.

"I'm sorry miss, but you really can't go in at the moment."

Maggie opens her mouth angrily, but Lila gets there first. "How is Mr Reid?"

"Mr Reid is stable at the moment. He's under sedation due to the extent of his injuries." The nurse fixes them with a sympathetic gaze which makes her blood boil like hot lava. "I'm sorry ladies, but I have to ask you to go."

Fury turns her vision red.

_Oh no. not this time. No one is going to stand in my way, not this time. I've to make sure that asshole is dead__, make sure he's outta the way__—_

"Miss Cain—"

"Just shut up." She manages coldly before bringing up the gun and knocking the nurse on the head. The woman falls to the ground, unconscious.

Lila gives a small squeal, "Mag—"

"You shut it too, Li. Do you want me to hit you?" she snarls. The other girl shrinks, flinching.

"Help me get her up."

They can't go round front, there are cameras. But the door to the nurse's station is just a little ways down the hall and Maggie is quite sure those don't have cameras. She leads Lila and together, they cut through and into the ward, dragging the limp deadweight of that annoying woman.

Maggie takes a glance at a wall plague for directions. "Room 102 is just down the hall. Keep a lookout for other people. Let's move."

The room is sandwiched in the middle of two others, one empty, one occupied. Thankfully, it is one of the furthest from the reception and waiting area. Fantastic.

She motions Lila to slide the door open for her. She dumps the nurse roughly on the ground, then she pulls the girl past the doorway before sliding the door shut the door.

They're in.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**I'm sorry for the lateness of this! Today has been a busy day and I'm so tired. But here it is! This is a little on the short side, but fret not, because the upcoming chapter is very very long. There is also a lot of talking in the next chapter, so bear with me? I like it when characters talk it out.**_

_**Thank you to all those who read and reviewed! You guys are awesome:)**_

_**Bye for now~**_


	7. talking the nights

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

Derek knows he shouldn't be drinking.

The hotel bar is almost empty, there's just him and one other guy a few seats down, along with the female bartender, who's rubbing down the glasses.

His eyes drop to his cold drink, watching the liquor catch the light of the soft overhead lights. When he tilts it, the ice clinks against the glass. The sound is startlingly loud.

"Hey."

He looks up and sees the bartender. The woman is young, with shoulder-length jet-black hair and delicate hands. She's clutching a cloth and setting down a glass, looking straight at Derek.

"Bad day?"

"Yeah, Jake," he reads of the young lady's nametag, "Jake? That's your name?

She holds her hands up in surrender, laughter in her greenish-brown eyes, "Don't ask me, my parents clearly shook on it in 1981."

_1981. Reid's born in 1981, October 9._ He muses, then shakes his head slightly, trying to clear away the thoughts. "It's been a rough night. Trying not to think about it."

"Uh-huh. I can tell."

Derek's eyebrow goes up.

"How?"

"Your drink," Jake says casually as she returns to cleaning her glass. "You came in about a half hour ago, ordered it, but you've barely touched it. Something's worrying you, and you haven't stopped thinking about it for long enough to stop for a sip."

Derek is momentarily struck at the girl's deduction. "Not bad, kid."

"Thanks." Jake grins, "It's a bartending thing. This job kinda teaches you how to read people a little better."

"Whatever for?"

"Oh, y'know. So you know exactly who to approach, who's looking to get laid, who's drowning their sorrows, who's just here for some relaxation and fun, who's not up for talking," The glass she's wiping tinkles as she sets it down, "And who is."

"So what about me?" Derek asks, "Which am I?"

"Hmm." The cloth goes under the counter. Jake leans on her elbows, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on it.

"I say you're a fed."

It takes few seconds for the sentence to sink in.

"Damn." Derek looks at her admirably (_How did she know that?_), "Not bad. Not bad at all."

There is a mischievous glint in her eyes, "really?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks. I have my moments."

"How did you know?"

"Mm…" She presses her lips together, "Your empty holster, for one. You're not in a uniform, and besides, LAPD don't come in here often."

"That's all? You got that I was a fed from just that?"

"Ah." Morgan raises an eyebrow as Jake's eyes drift to the blank TV screen at the end of the bar. "I may or may not have seen you on the news earlier. Right over there. You haven't changed out of your shirt."

"Gotcha." He takes a sip from his drink and grins back at her. This girl is cheeky, and different. She reminds him of Penelope.

He watches her go to the side and grab a wineglass. It fills with mineral water from a near-empty jug; on her way back, the other guy in the place calls up his tab. Jake keys it in –_Thank you sir, it was a pleasure to serve you tonight_— occasionally throwing glances at Derek while she rings it up for the other man, as if to make sure that he's still there.

When the other patron gets up, she returns, glass back in her hand.

"How's your friend?" her tone is lower, quieter.

"Who?"

"The one you've spent the past 30 minutes worrying about."

Silence falls on the pair. Derek looks at Jake, Jake looks right back, unwavering and patient.

"He's—"

_**A bloodied Reid spasms on the ground, choking, surrounded by medics. Blood, dripping from his hands.**_

"He's what?" Derek looks away.

_**Reid on the bed, not moving. (**__**Why isn't he moving?**__**) He can't see his face but he needs to, he needs to see his face, he needs to make sure he's ok—**_

"Mr…?" He blinks. Jake is standing before him, looking concerned. When she realizes that she has his attention again a pink blush creeps to her cheeks. She looks a little abashed.

"Uh." She starts, awkwardly, "I don't know your—"

"It's Morgan. Derek Morgan. Most of my friends call me Morgan."

"Alright, Morgan. You ok?"

"Yeah." He runs a hand down his face. "Yeah, just thinking…"

"… about your friend?" she inserts, taking a small sip from her glass.

He takes a sip from his drink. Then thinks about it and brings it up to his lips again.

"That bad, huh?" he can feel Jake's eyes on him when he sets the empty glass down and exhales heavily.

"It's alright." He taps the rim of the glass and manages a smile. "This is good."

Jake returns his grin begrudgingly, "Want one more?"

"Nah. I'm still on the job. Shouldn't be drinking."

An idea seems to have struck the girl, "Wait, gimme a moment."

She swipes his glass and disappears into the doors that lead to the small pantry and comes back with something black and fizzy in his glass. A few pieces of ice are thrown in and the bartender sets it before him. Derek picks it up curiously, then takes a sip.

"Coke?"

"And tequila." Ah.

"Told you I'm on the job. I really shouldn't be drinking." He's grinning in spite of himself.

She shrugs and returns his smile. "A little more wouldn't hurt."

He laughs softly and takes another sip.

Jake lets him mull, watches him push the glass back and forth between his hands.

"I should have been there."

She straightens, eyes attentive.

"I should've been there, I-I should have looked out for him. I should have protected him. I promised him I would. I promised myself. I promised."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is!" he bangs his fist down on the bar. Jake flinches but regains her composure quickly. She doesn't say anything as he continues.

"He trusted me, he trusted all of us. I was supposed to have his back, just like he always has mine. But I was just so… so fixated on catching that bitch that I let him get ambushed. I let him get hurt and we lost the girl. We failed. I failed."

There is a buzzing in his ears as he deflates, feeling helpless and miserable. He struggles to not let that show on his face and takes a long draught from his nearly-empty glass. Jake is clutching her water, but she hasn't touched it since the first sip.

He averts his gaze, dropping them to the glass again, watching bubbles chase each other around in the liquid.

"Morgan?" a small voice interrupts his turbulent thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, you know."

"Yeah," he gives a bitter laugh, "Sure."

"Listen." Something in her voice forces Derek to look up. Her eyes are a gentle brown, flecked with green and her hair frames her face lightly, like a shadow, "It is not your fault. I don't think anyone expected things to go down like that."

"But we should have seen it coming—"

"But nothing. You can't always nail a criminal, Morgan. I mean, you feds are definitely very good at that, but sometimes things go wrong, things always go wrong. And that's really no one's fault. It wouldn't have happened any different even if we tried."

"And," she sets her glass down on the bartending table. "There's no use beating yourself up over it. We live in the present, Derek. Trying to change what has already happened won't help anybody."

There is understanding in her tone. Derek's fingertips are numb from gripping the cold glass of tequila and coke.

"You sound like you speak from experience."

Jake purses her lips again. It seems to Derek like she does that when she's thinking hard about something.

"My dad died when I was fourteen. Car accident, foggy night, drunk driver." She murmured.

She takes a moment, then collects herself and looks back at him, eyes brittle and bright, "the last thing I said to him was that I hated him, because of something he forgot to help me with. Something stupid, like help me with my homework of something. I was angry for months after that. Took out everything on my mum, my siblings. In the end, my mother sent me to boarding school because she couldn't take it anymore."

"Then?" Derek heard himself ask.

"I was angry, so angry. I had a roommate, this boy who was kinda scrawny, quiet. Always got picked on. He came from a single-parent household. His father was a military asshole who ordered him about. But god, he was so strong. He was always studying, and every time the bullies kicked him to the dirt, he picked himself back up. He taught me to turn my past from a burden that I have convinced myself to carry into a cloak that shielded me from the sun. He taught me to pick myself up, so nothing could ever stop me. And I did."

There was nothing but the clinking of glasses in the silence as Jake raised her glass to take a long sip.

"I'm taking Sociology at UCLA, started bartending part-time because I knew that one of the ways I can stop drunk drivers from getting on the road and destroying things is to be the one that serves them the drink. That way, I can watch over them and call them a cab if they're too inebriated to walk in a straight line." Jake shrugs, "It's not much and I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but hey, I had to start somewhere."

"That…that sounds like a good plan." Her eyes twinkle as he gives her a grin, "Good job kiddo."

"Thanks. It's the least I can do. I just want to make my family proud, you know?"

"Yeah," Derek thinks back to his mother, remembering the happy expression on her face when he got a full ride scholarship to college, "I know that feeling."

"But ultimately, Morgan," Jake's voice brings him back. She's staring at him now, eyes boring into his, "what I'm trying to say is sometimes, things go wrong. We screw up, others screw up and everything falls apart. But the fact is that that's life and as shit as it may be, it's up to us to decide whether it stays shit or it works in our favor. Wallowing in self-despair is like throwing yourself in a rut; you get nowhere."

Silence falls. Derek tries to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

_She's right. Reid needs me, the team needs me. This case needs me. I'm no help to anyone if I let this mess consume me. I need to get my head in the game._

He raises his glass to drink, only to discover that there was nothing left. A surprised chuckle slips past his lips and Jake joins him, laughing softly.

"Geez kid," he sets the empty glass down and nudges it towards the girl. "You're pretty darn good at this bartending thing. I think you should be a therapist."

"Nah," her green orbs twinkle mischievously. "I think I'm gonna just stick to just being me."

"Well," he stood up and dusted his pants, "I think I've overstayed my welcome. Could you close up the tab—"

"Yeah, of course." Jake picks up his cup and turns to set it in the basin. She throws him a wink as he follows her to the cash register.

"Come back some time?"

"Of course. If I'm in town." He hands over a bill and watches as she punches in the numbers.

"Hey." The girl looks up at his voice as the register whirrs.

"Thanks for listening."

"It's my pleasure." With a shrill ping, the drawer pops open. "Here you go."

"Nice meeting you. And thanks, again."

"You too."

As he turns to leave, he can hear her going back to tinkling around the counter, keeping glasses and washing the basin. Then the sound stops.

"Hey, Derek." The said man turns back. Jake is staring at him from across the room, half-smile on her face.

"Everything will turn out fine. It always does."

"Yeah." Derek offering her a small smile which she returns. "I really hope you're right."

**x-x-x-x-x**

Spencer Reid feels warm. This is an extremely uncommon occurrence. Spencer Reid is never this warm, not in springtime, then he goes for a stroll in the park near his small apartment, not when he's in a hot shower on a chilly autumn's evening, not when he's indoors on a snow day with Quantico's central heating system blasting overhead. Not even when he's standing under the sun on a summer's day in Las Vegas.

He's always a little cold. There is always a little bit of cold in the warmth.

But not now. Now he feels hot, inside and out. The heat is coming from his core and makes his arms feel like blocks of heavy steel and his eyelids feel like they're weighed down by sandbags. The fire comes in dull, throbbing waves, like the diffusion of a severe migraine. It is an extremely uncomfortable feeling.

The next thing he feels is the pressure on his tongue. Panic seeps into his veins as he tries to swallow the item, only to find that the pressure continues into his throat and down to his—

"Spencer?" a soft, gentle voice calls, from far, far away. It is barely audible, but rings like a note of music in his foggy mind.

_Lila?_

"Spencer. I need you to calm down. There's a tube in your throat but I need you to calm down." There it is again, the whispering voice. It feels like it's coming from the opposite side of a very thick glass. The quality of the sound is very muffled, rather distorted. He has to strain to hear but he is surprised that he knows who it belongs to.

_Lila. Yes, it's Lila. Lila, please, help. Tell me what happened. Please, I can't—_

"Spencer—"

"Lila? What are you doing? I told you to take out his IV, otherwise he'll never wake up."

A new voice. The sound of her voice sends ice running down his spine. There is a beat, before a jerk sends a small shard of pain into the back of his hand.

"Good girl. Now pass me those; I need to tie this bitch up."

He knows this voice. He's knows her. All of a sudden, it is as if his whole self feels like it's being sucked through a black hole, deep within his gut.

It comes back to him, all at once.

_Los Angeles. Lila Archer. Stalker. Pool. Kiss. Garcia. The call is coming from—. Room. Lila, stay behind me. You don't have to do this. Dizzy. Fire. __Burning.__ Can't breathe, help. No, no. Lila. Lila is with—_

_**Maggie Lowe.**_

His eyes snap open in an instant all he sees is light.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**So... I've got a problem. My writing is kind of stuck in this funk, everything that comes out sounds extra cheesy and convoluted. I'm a very lazy person too, when it comes to writing. So that doesn't help. **_

_**Its so difficult to write omgomg can someone just kill me now.**_

_**(Also, like I mentioned in the earlier chapters, I have a running theory/headcanon-y thing about doing different POVs and the names used to refer to people. The characters refer to themselves with the name they're most comfortable with, for Hotch it's Aaron; JJ it's JJ; Garcia it's Penelope; Morgan it's Derek; Elle, Elle; Gideon, Jason.**_

_**But here's the special one, Reid. for Reid it's still Reid because no one ever made him feel comfortable when he was Spencer. In school, at the FBI academy, he was never comfortable with being Spencer because people couldn't accept him for his intellect and brilliance. He's more comfortable with Reid because of the BAU; they were his first real family, and they appreciated and cared for him for who he is. They call him Reid, thus he's more comfortable with that name.**_

_**Just a kind of side thing I felt like putting in. I don't even know why I just vomited out an entire analysis of my headcanon thing here but ok)**_

_****__**Updates might take a while, I need to get the stuff together. Guh. **__**See you soon, hopefully! Brb pulling my lazy writing ass out of the gutter.**_


	8. running out

**Summary: Episode Tag to xx Tuesdayebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**_***IMPORTANT NOTE:_ (in case you guys don't remember the first note from the first chapter) BOLD means flashback! In this chapter's case, the bolded sections is Reid remembering what happened went down at Lila's house earlier.**

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

The source of the immensely harsh light is the fluorescent lamps on the grayish ceiling. Inexplicably, it seemed to pulse in time with this headache that was drilling its way through the back of his head. Somewhere in the background there is a steady beeping, accompanied by a mechanical hissing.

He shuts his eyes and attempts to swallow.

Wrong move.

He can feel the saliva, slithering like burning acid down the back of his oesophagus. The action itself jolts what feels like a really long, hard cylinder that has been shoved down his throat through his mouth. For a moment, he feels like he's suffocating, then his gag reflex kicks in. His chest burns with every spasm. Rationally, his brain recognises the situation, he understands he's probably in the hospital and that he's likely been intubated at some point and this thing down his throat is a breathing tube and without it he _can't breathe_ and—

"Spencer, Spencer!"

The sound is coming from so far away. It's almost inaudible. There's a hand, a hand around his right bicep. The grip is tight, but the hand is small.

"Spencer?"

"Mmf—" Reid opens his eyes to a blurry face, looming in his vision. When the face finally comes into focus, his tongue stops repelling, and his throat calms down. His ribs ache with dull fire. He blinks to clear the fog.

_Lila._

She looks entirely different. Her long hair is a light hazel, very much like his. She has a messy fringe, clipped short. Her face is so pale but her eyes, even though they are now a soulful brown, he recognises them. He recognises the look in her eyes. It's her, definitely.

_Spencer, _her eyes say, _it's ok. Calm down._

That's what grounds him. He finds the will in him to press down his anxiety and when he finally manages, the air from the tube to rushes easily into his lungs. Lila stays with him throughout. She lifts a cold hand and gently brushes his hair out of his face. Her fingers are like chips of ice.

_I'm here._

Just as he's about to respond, she abruptly drops out from his line of sight.

_No, Lila. No, come back—_

A new face comes into view. This one has messily cropped hair, dark chocolate like Elle's. This girl's eyes are a clear chestnut now, but they still cut into him like shards of ice. He's seen this face before, those eyes.

**A sharp pain slices through the side of his head. Lila's eyes go wide and her mouth opens. He can't hear her. What is she saying?**

**He can feel himself falling backwards. He lands hard on his left side. The tremor sends a bolt of pain through his head and his vision flickers, like the failing light of a faulty light bulb.**

**Everything turns sideways as Lila crawls over to him, face pink from sobbing and eyes blurry and red. He can feel her shaking as she cups his face, her lips moving so fast he can barely keep up. What scares him is that he can't hear her.**

**Someone is coming over, he can feel the vibrations as she steps over his body and stops beside Lila. The latter is pulled forcefully away from him and he tries to make a grab at her, stop her from going. Reid's hands jerk weakly, missing her as she gets to her feet.**

**No, he must get to her. Maggie. Maggie is here, she's going to take Lila away.**

**He's supposed to keep Lila safe.**

Her lips curve into a sinister grin. "Hello, sleepyhead."

Spencer tries to make a sound but ends up coughing. The sensation makes his head throb and sends waves of fire down his throat. A new pain makes itself known, one that seems to radiate from the center of his whole being. It's muted, but every cough feels like someone is sending a blunt knife through his abdomen. Somewhere behind him, the ventilator hisses in protest.

"Shh, shh, Spencer, Spencer." Maggie's voice coaxes, "quiet now, boy. Otherwise, they'll hear."

Breathe, he thinks, just breathe.

"I'm going to play nurse for a while, is that alright with you, Spencey?"

_No, get your hands off me—_

"Ok, here we go!" there is a click and then whirring, the bed he's on is vibrating and—

Pain, unimaginable pain explodes in the middle of his chest. He cries out, but the sound comes out as a gurgle. The whole mattress is whirring and if this is what sitting up in his condition felt like, he couldn't fathom standing up and walking to go get help. The fire radiated from his core, making his vision turn black at the edges. Every mechanical breath he takes feels like he's swallowing red-hot lava and his headache pounds against his skull.

_Oh god, make her stop. Please, someone please make her stop. Please!_

He blinks the hot tears out of his eyes and frantically tries to seek out Lila. But she is nowhere to be seen.

_Help! Please, somebody, anybody, help!_

No one comes. All he is able to do to lie there and allow his agony to take over. The surging waves of pain make him nauseous; The world spins like a carousel and he wrenches his eyelids shut, in attempt to escape the vertigo.

**His stubborn arms respond more quickly this time. Reid manages to get up halfway. He fixes his eyes on a spot on the carpet, trying to will himself to get upright. A kick brings him down. He stumbles back and falls, backwards, hits the bed, rolls off the side and falls flat on his back on the floor. A headache is tightening like a clamp around at his temples.**

**Lila's ceiling is gray with shadows. He tilts his head back. There is a lamp on her bedside table, he can see it's lampshade over the edge of the table. If he can just grab it and bring it up across to Maggie—**

**A foot in his gut knocks the wind out of him. He curls up instinctively and straightens out only when Maggie starts to nudge his legs away from him. **

**Lila must have said something because Maggie turns and snaps at her. their voices are foggy, distant. He feels like he's slipping.**

"**Please, no…" Reid's rubbery lips barely manage to form the words. **

**Maggie looks back at his plea. Her surprised expression turns amused when he starts to struggle. Reid's head is throbbing something awful, his ears are starting to ring. That blow to his head must have done something to his head. Something bad. There was a name for it, what was it?**

**Something cold is being pressed against his navel. He stops squirming as Maggie grins, using the handgun to trace a path up to the middle of the abdomen.**

_**No. nononononono. This can't be happening. **_

**He feels himself stiffen as she loads the weapon.**

_**How did she get the gun? He took it away from her, he disarmed her. How did she get the gun?**_

_**How?**_

His eyes snap open for what seems like the hundredth time today. The pain is subsiding to a pulsing throb, and the headache and ringing are still there, but less pronounced. The lights don't hurt as badly. He fights the urge to cough up the tube in his throat.

_In, out. In, out._

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

He summons all the energy he has into a glare, which he directs at Maggie. She's standing on his left leaning casually against the handrail, the remote for the bed clutched loosely in her left hand. The curtains are drawn almost all the way around the bed, he can't see past her.

"Ooh, looks like someone is in a bad mood. We are just trying to help you sit up, right Lila?"

At the mention of her name, Reid eyes drift to the right. Lila. She nods, looking a little stiff, eyes puffy, but overall unhurt. He can't get to her and his own helplessness makes his heart ache with guilt.

_In, out._

_What do you want?_ He shoots at Maggie with his eyes, trying to look as menacing as he could. Judging by the grin that spreads across the deranged woman's face, it clearly didn't work.

"We just came by to see you, that's all. See, we heard that you were alive and kicking on the radio and were concerned."

_We.__ She's clearly suffering a break from reality. She seems to think Lila is in on this._

He wants to look back to Lila, make sure she's ok. But as far as Maggie's concerned, Lila is her partner now, and if Reid takes one too many glances at her, it may be interpreted as affection, or worse, a conspiracy between him and Lila. At which point in time, nothing in the world would be able to save them from Maggie's wrath.

Unless the team came bursting through the door.

Right about now.

…

Nothing.

"You see Spencer," Maggie sets down the remote, right by his hand. "We're not happy with something. We heard something on the radio, see. Something… about me being a lunatic."

Her face twists; she leans close.

"Did you tell them that? Did you tell them that I was crazy? I bet you did."

Reid grimaces as she grabs his hair and pulls. He tries not the shut his eyes again as the pain in his head intensifies; he will not give her the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

"You pathetic asshole," she spits, "You're a coward. You think you're so amazing, so fantastic, with your stupid gun and your badge. But really you're just a coward, hiding behind your big strong friends, hoping they'll protect you. Well guess what, _Spencer_, they're not here now!"

Maggie throws him back down, making his head swim. His chest is throbbing again, he feels warm all over and his heart is beating a frantic tattoo into his ribcage.

Struggling with the pain, Reid decides that perhaps focusing on something that might bring calm him down. Looking at Lila just frustrates him and makes his head hurt so Reid lets his eyes drift towards the sounds. There is a hissing sound coming from the machine that's helping him breathe, dripping sound coming from the IVs he's been hooked up to. One of the IV tubes is dark red, he observes. Blood transfusion.

A beeping sound interrupts his observations; it is coming from the oximeter. He scans the readings on the screen. The numbers help; he doesn't feel as breathless and the pain is barely tolerable.

_Wait._

The heart rate on the display is at 55. His oxygen levels are healthy. Blood pressure largely normal, in fact, it is a little on the high side.

_A normal resting heart rate for adults over the age of 18 ranges from 60 to 100 beats per minute, depending on the person's physique and fitness. Systolic pressure for healthy adults ranges from 90-120, diastolic pressure ranges from 60-80. _

_I'm receiving a blood transfusion. Blood loss. _He observes. Unconsciously, a new piece of information surfaces. _Patients suffering from mild blood loss going onto moderate blood loss generally start to show signs of tachycardia. Moderate to severe blood loss causes hypotension._

Which means his heart should be elevated, and his blood pressure should be lower. His being on a ventilator just meant his oxygen levels are nowhere near normal, or the medical staff would have taken him off the tube.

_Those are not my readings._

If he wasn't hooked to the pulse-ox, who was?

"Ah," his head snaps back to Maggie, who was watching him read the screen of the oximeter, "I see you've seen our counter measure. Didn't I tell you I was playing nurse?"

Reid feels a shiver run down his spine at her smile. There is a moment of confusion, then Lila shifts a little and he spots something.

There is another woman sitting in a chair a little further behind Lila. She's appears unconscious and strapped to the chair; he can't tell what it is that Maggie used to tie her down with without his glasses. She's wearing a nurse's uniform and the pulse-ox is clipped to her limp finger.

"Smart, isn't it?" he starts when he feels Maggie breathe into his ear. "I was going to use Lila at first, but then this bitch tried to stop us from coming in so we took her with us. Turned out quite useful, don't you think?"

He feels a burst of anger stir in his gut, but it is quenched by a thought. Now it isn't just his and Lila's life at stake, this innocent nurse's one is as well. He must stay calm. And with the nurse here and his 'vitals' stable, no one is about to come running in any time soon.

_Think, Spencer, think. _

Maggie paces to the foot of his bed, there is something in her hand.

_When cornered, unsubs like Maggie either commit suicide or kill the object of their affection. But Lila has been compliant so far, and appears to have listened to her. This means that she is playing along to Maggie's fantasy. If Maggie perceives things to be going her way, she will continue with the delusion. Continuing this delusion means…_

His heart sinks as the object in her hand catches the light.

_Gun._

Lila stiffens when she sees it. She knows.

_Maggie's going to make a run for it but first, they have to get everything and everyone out of the way. Lila will never be hers if someone else wants her. _

"See, Spencer. Lila and I have this really amazing plan." She leans on the footboard, a smirk on her pale face. "We're going on vacation."

_Plan. Plan, I need a plan. I need to stop them. _

"We have a new car, I got all my cash, its real lovely. We're going to use it hop towns, take in a bit of the sights and sounds, y'know? Stay under the radar." Maggie uses the gun to prod his foot. Her smile widens when he jerks away. He looks at Lila, wanting to tell her to look away but stops when he sees her, face ashen and frozen in shock.

"Then, when you're long buried, your friends have finally given up, and our case goes cold, we'll leave. I have some passports ready, jus' need some new pictures. Then we're off. Off to see the world."

_No._

"Sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

His eyes drop unconsciously to the gun in her hand; Maggie sees him.

"Oh this?" she flicks it carelessly in the air, "I'm not going to kill you with this, it's too loud. No…"

She moves so fast around his left side again, he flinches. Her face is inches from his when she hisses, no longer smiling, "I'm going to make you suffer for what you did to us."

He stares straight back into her eyes, unwavering. Maggie hesitates, holding the gaze for a split-second. Then she breaks it off and straightens up, looking across him to Lila, "It's time. Go check if anyone is outside."

The girl doesn't move. She stares at an empty spot on the wall, face blank, eyes glazed. He recognises that look; she's in shock.

"Li."

_No, if she doesn't listen, Maggie will kill her!_

"Lila."

_Lila, no—_

"Ugh, never mind. I'll do it myself."

_What?_

He watches as the other girl moves back to the end of the bed and goes pass the curtains, presumably to glance outside. Reid turns his head to look at Lila, see if she's still out of it, only to see her staring back, bright-eyed, a little pale, but perfectly lucid.

_What? What's happening?_

Panic rises to his chest and his head spins giddily. One moment he was sure Maggie was going to kill Lila if she didn't listen, Lila was in shock and suddenly she wasn't and Maggie didn't kill her? What was happening?

A hand on his arm grounds him, and he blinks hard, only to find himself face to face to Lila.

"She trusts me. She thinks I'm already on her side."

_It's not just that, _the profiler in his head thinks, _Maggie thinks I'm already a dead man. Whatever Lila does now has no consequences because I'll be dead by the time they're here._

Lila takes his hand. Her grip is gentle and her touch is as light as a feather.

Suddenly, Reid feels exhausted. There is a sluggishiness that is seeping into his bones and the edges of his mind, and each blink takes more effort than it should.

The feeling of something being pressed into his hand pulls him out his stupor. The bleeding wound where the IV used to be twinges painfully as Lila curves his fingers around the object.

_Paper. Wha—_

"The car plate number." Lila breathes, "Our car."

Their eyes lock and now its Reid's turn to understand. She was giving them a way to track them. And dead or not, he could help her.

A tear slides down Lila's face. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can stop her."

He manages a smile.

_It's okay. I'm okay. _

Another tear falls.

_We'll get to you. I'll get to you._

Lila doesn't speak. After a moment, she lifts the hand she's been holding and presses a slightly wet kiss to his knuckles.

"Will you be alright?"

Nod. His head protests.

_Don't worry. I'll be fine._

There are footsteps coming back through the door. Lila gives him one last smile, but it looks more like a grimace.

_I'll be fine._

They both know how wrong he was.

**x-x-x-x-x**

Aaron Hotchner presses the heels of his hands to his stinging eyes. It's almost 3am and he still hasn't gone to bed.

His headache throbs like a pulse at the base of his skull.

He looks back to the map he has pinned up on the wall in the hotel room. It is littered with labels and dots, majority made by Reid.

_Please._

He doesn't even know who he is pleading with. Who he's praying to. He had lost sight of that years and years ago, when his father started coming home smelling like he fell in a ditch full of convenience store alcohol and cheap perfume.

_Please save him._

Reid, his agent. Reid, the youngest.

Reid, the one they are supposed to protect.

Reid.

_Please forgive me._

Somewhere, a phone rings.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**Hi guys! Thanks for all your words of encouragement, it's really comforting:) So here's an extra extra long chapter for those who I kept waiting! I hope you enjoy it. The next chapter will be up on Monday/Tuesday depending on which time zone you're in! Till then, have a good weekend!:D**_

_***edit: sorry guys, I meant Tuesday/wednesday! Not mon/tues**_


	9. flicker flit

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

JJ should be panicking. She knows she should but for some reason all she feels is the vibrating of the engine of the SUV and the cold from the air-conditioning sinking into her bones like rain. She leans her head against the window of the car, but not before sneaking a glance in front.

Gideon is at the wheel, gaze hard and fixed upon the road ahead. Elle is riding shotgun and has her eyes glued to the file in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Her fingers are tapping frantic rhythm on her lap as she reads the documents impatiently, turning the pages so hard it sounds like she's ripping the paper into shreds.

She stopped crying about an hour before Garcia arrived and has stopped showing any form of emotion since. She offered hugs, and silent comfort, but nothing more.

Sometimes JJ hates this job, how it makes all of them detach themselves from everything and anything until there's nothing left.

A crackle of typing catches her attention. Garcia is typing furiously on her personal laptop, glasses reflecting the screen of the computer.

"Garcia."

The woman doesn't reply, just types.

"Garcia." JJ tries again. Nothing again, "Penelope."

She reaches over and lays her hand on the technical analyst's arm and feels her stop immediately.

"Are you okay?"

There is a stark pause where JJ feels like the darkness in the car is closing in on her. It's frightening and suffocating.

"I don't know." Garcia's whisper sends the air back into her lungs, "I really— I've pulled footage from the entrance of the hospital, and the front of the ICU, but there's nothing. I don't see Lila or Maggie at all. I'm also…." her breath hitches, "I'm also trying to hack into the hospital database, ICU records are harder to get hold of but I need to know…I need to know he's okay."

JJ hears herself reply, in a strange defensive tone, "There is no need to check. Hotch is sure. I'm sure. He's fine."

"JJ."

"He's fine." She repeats, trying to convince herself. She can feel the tremors running from the electricity in her spine to the tips of her fingers but she tells herself it's just the cold.

A pair of warm hands take hers.

"Jayje." The other blonde says, in a low voice, "Are you okay?"

A shiver runs down her spine at her own question. Garcia's grip on her hands tighten, "JJ, you know you don't have to be strong, right? It's alright to be weak. It's alright to be afraid."

"But—"

"Jennifer."

Silence.

Then—

"I..." The words finally slip past her lips, a ghost of a whisper. She can't look straight at her friend so she fixes her eyes on the sky outside the window.

"I'm scared." The clouds are a bruised purple and the lights look like splotches of running ink against the concrete landscape that whizzes past them.

"I'm scared, Garcia. I don't know what's happening, I need to see him, to make sure he's—" Within seconds, she finds herself enveloped in a bone-crushing hug and a faceful of Garcia's wiry blonde locks.

The tears rush to her cheeks and dampen the technical analyst's hair. JJ wants to say sorry but Garcia just hugs her tighter and the words get lost in her throat. There is building pressure in her ears, and beneath the buzzing she can almost hear the echo of Hotch's words, those seemingly harmless phrases strung up into sentences that _cut_.

_(— Wake everyone up, JJ. We need to get down the hospital; something's happened to Reid—)_

The tears won't stop. Garcia takes to rocking her back and forth, muttering something into her ear. It takes a while for JJ to realise thatshe's actually murmuring the words _it's okay _over and over and over.

"What are we going to do?" she breathes hoarsely, and feels the rocking falter.

_**(Hotch, what's going on— **__There's no time to explain, JJ, I need everyone up now—__)_

"I don't know." She closes her eyes at the other woman's reply. The words cut through the stiff atmosphere in the car like knife through butter and JJ's tongue tastes like salty tears and metal.

"I don't know."

* * *

**A/N: **

_**(this has got to be the shortest chapter I've posted. Ever.)**_

_**I don't really like this chapter. I like JJ a lot, but for some reason I just can't write for her and it kills me because I think she's a really awesome character. So yeah. Definitely NOT one of my better pieces of writing /headdesk/**_

_**I'm so so sorry for the shortness of this, there is no excuse really, if I posted the next part, this would have been waaaayyy too long (for my taste) so I had to go with the alternative which is to post it short ugh **_

_**The next part will be up as soon as possible! Please be patient till then, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**_


	10. made to last

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

*****NOTE: BOLD and ITALICIZED words are parts when characters remember something someone said. **

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

_**His right lung had re-collapsed when we found him, and he is running a high fever from an infection but is refusing medication. He's asking for you. Come as quickly as you can.**_

Those are the words ringing in Aaron's head as he sweeps into the ICU ward, with Morgan close behind him.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, FBI." He flashes his badge at the nurse at the counter whose mouth is half-open, cut off mid-question.

He jogs down a familiar corridor and finds himself blocked by a crowd at the door of Reid's room. There are groups of nurses and orderlies standing by, watching the commotion in the room.

"Excuse me, excuse me—"

He pushes his way past the people and steps into a scene he never wants to see again.

Reid is on the semi-elevated bed, a huge plastic oxygen mask obscuring half his face and struggling weakly against the two female nurses are attempting to pin down by his arms. From a glance, Hotch notes that his blanket is on the floor and the bandages covering his chest wound are slowly turning red. The boy's doctor is attempting to placate him, her pleading voice mingling with the hysterical sounds he was making.

"Doctor—"

"Agent Hotchner! He won't stop fighting us, we need to put him under to evaluate the damage that has been done."

The kid doesn't appear to know he's there; he jerks, grunting and panting painfully. He coughs and a spatter of blood clouds the inside of the oxygen mask.

"Reid," he barks at his youngest agent, placing a hand gingerly on his shoulder. His skin is warm to touch. Too warm. "Reid, look at me."

At his voice, the said agent stops struggling and their gazes lock. Hotch's heart almost stops at the glazed agony and agitation in his eyes, that of a trapped animal.

"…'otch," the word is muffled by the mask, fear, and sheer exhaustion, "Lila…"

"Slowly, Reid, slowly." In the corner of his eye, he sees the doctor turn around and leave, presumably going to get the sedative.

"Listen, Reid, you've got to let the doctors help you. I know it's confusing and painful, but you've got to let them."

"N-no—" Reid starts to thrash again. Morgan takes over nurse on the boy's left side, holding him down, "Don'… understand…"

"What don't we understand, kid?" Morgan intones sharply.

"… Maggie…"

"Yeah we know, kid. We haven't gotten them yet. We're still looking—"

"No… t'ey… 'ere…"

Morgan throws Aaron a confused look. Something clicks in the leader's head, "Lila and Maggie were here? Did Maggie do this to you?"

Reid nods and winces, horribly. But he continues, wheezing out barely discernible words between gasps, "T'ey… cut… 'air…dyed it…"

The doctor returns but Aaron stops her short with a hand.

"They cut their hair?"

"Yes… Mag…gie… short… cropped h-hair…" Reid hacks out a painful-sounding cough, "Lila… long… with… short… fringe… both… brown..."

"Both are brunettes now?" Morgan summarises.

"Yes… car… plate …" the kid's eyes go to his right fist, which is clenched tight. There is a dash of blood at the back of his hand where the IV used to be; it seems as if someone had pulled it out. Aaron exchanges a quick look with Morgan and goes around the bed as quickly as he can.

The nurse moves away as Reid uncurls his trembling hand, revealing a very crumpled, slightly damp scrap of paper. Aaron takes it and unfolds it.

He feels his expression darken at the words on the paper.

"Reid? Reid!" Aaron's head shoots up at Morgan's shout. Spencer Reid's eyes are squeezed tight and his face is whiter than the sheets he's lying on. Suddenly there is rapid beeping coming from one of the machines. Something is wrong.

"He's crashing! We need to get him down to surgery—"

He steps aside and dazedly watches as chaos unfolds. The doctor has taken Morgan's spot beside Reid and is shouting something unintelligible as one of the nurses (he doesn't know which one) pulls a lever and lowers Reid into a supine position.

An orderly rushes in with a tray of more machinery just as his youngest agent's face goes slack and his body deflates. The beeping machine shrieks a continuous wail.

The sounds cuts through the air like a knife.

He jumps involuntarily as the paddles make contact with Reid's pale skin and the young man's body jolts with all the life of a rag doll.

"Clear!"

Aaron glances at Morgan as the next charge is delivered, only to see that the man was staring at their friend on the bed. A sickly pallor has settled on the man's face and he looks as though he's about to throw up.

"Clear!"

The rest of the team has arrived; they're trying to get through the crowd. Aaron sees a flash of JJ's blonde hair and hears the rough quality of Gideon's raised voice. Gideon never raises his voice.

"Clear!"

Nothing. He lets himself look at the screaming heart monitor and stares at straight green line.

_Please._

"Clear!"

"Doctor—"somewhere, someone interjects.

"No, we're not stopping! Again." The woman's voice is firm, and determined.

"Clear!"

The line jumps.

Beep…beep…

"Get him to OR 3 before we lose him again! Page Dr. Lee to come down immediately!" The nurses immediately follow her orders and in moments, the crowd outside disperses. The doctor helps cut a wide path for the bed to pass through.

Aaron is left standing in the suddenly silent room, feeling as if a hurricane has just torn through the room and taken his breath with it.

"Hotch." A gruff voice pulls him out of his reverie. Morgan appears to have regained his bearings and is now looking straight at him.

Garcia walks into the room, eyes watery and a little unsteady on her feet. She moves quietly to Morgan and touches him on the arm. The man diverts his gaze away from Hotch to envelope the woman in his arms as her body starts to shake with sobs.

"What did he give you?" his gaze moves back to the entrance at the sound of a soft voice. JJ, standing in by the door, tears running silently down her face. Gideon is standing a little ways behind staring down the corridor that the bed had turned into. Elle is nowhere to be seen.

"He…"

Hotch looks down at his hand. The paper is partially smoothed out, the writing on it slightly smudged by Reid's grip.

"I hope it was worth it." Garcia pulls out of Morgan's embrace to choke out. Her eyes are puffy and red and her face is unnaturally pale without her usual bright make up. "I hope it was worth—God."

She buries her face back in Morgan's chest and lets out a heart-breaking whimper.

_Was it worth it?_

He curls his fist back around the paper, just as Spencer did and tries to pretend away the heat behind his eyes. The room is suddenly is suddenly too quiet, too cold. Too empty.

_I don't know._

* * *

**A/N:**

_**Here we are again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter? I just started writing again, because I was a bit stuck for the past week or so. The story is coming along slowly though. But at least its coming. WELP. I'll be back in a few days, till then, have a good weekend:D**_


	11. hearts, ignite, alight

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

_**(I realized I forgot to add that there are also some) BAD WORDS (here and there).**_

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

This feeling is starting to become too familiar for her liking. JJ stares at a spot on the floor, between her shoes, fighting the urge run off and find Elle.

"Family of Spencer Reid?"

The surgeon is in a set of green scrubs. His face is lined with weariness, his dark hair sticks up like a messy black halo around his head from the surgical cap he pulls off. He crumples that up with a wad of gloves that look suspiciously brown. JJ's stomach revolts.

"I'm Dr. Lee. Dr. Lisbon informed me that she told you all to wait here—"

There is a yelp and suddenly the doctor is pinned up against the wall by Morgan, his face contorted with anger.

"What happened?" he snarled in the man's face, "You were supposed to keep him safe! Look after him! Do we have to do your job for you too?!"

"Morgan." The team leader is beside the man in a second, talking to him in a low voice. She manages to catch some words.

"…Reid… Not their fault… let go. We… make a commotion… calm down…"

Morgan hesitates, then releases the surgeon, throwing one last glare at him before stalking away, down the hall. Garcia stands as he leaves, throwing JJ and helpless glance before she starts after the agent.

"Sorry about that." She hears Hotch tell the slightly dishevelled man who's brushing the dust off his clothes.

"What was that about? I—"

"How is he?" Gideon cuts the man off. Dr. Lee stops, narrows his eyes at the remaining three agents and makes a huffy sound at the back of his throat.

"Agent Reid—"

"Dr. Reid." The three of them say in unison.

"Fine. Dr. Reid is stable at the moment. We have moved him back to his room. Do you want an overall report of his injuries or everything with the details?"

"Perhaps you can start," Gideon walks up next to Hotch, eyes unusually hard, "With _how _this whole thing happened."

"Those girls you are chasing." A voice comes from behind them. Dr. Lisbon, the doctor they met earlier, is standing at the door separating the waiting area from the OR corridor. She walks over. "They got past security."

"How is that possible?" JJ murmurs, eyes moving to look at the weary-eyed woman.

"The cameras didn't catch them, but there were eyewitnesses who saw them coming through the door. They went straight up to the ICU so the people who saw them thought they were visiting one of the critically ill patients. Those girls tried to use a ruse, attempted to get into the ward by citing blood relations to Dr. Reid. The nurse who was on duty, Sally Turner, intercepted them said that there was one very talkative, aggressive woman, short cropped hair, brown eyes, and another who was quiet, timid. The quiet one had long hair and brown eyes as well. They were both brunettes." The doctor explains.

"Maggie." Hotch says. "The one with the short hair is Maggie. The quiet one is Lila."

JJ exchanges a questioning look with Gideon. Hotch hesitates. "Reid... managed to give a description and their car plate number before he went into surgery. He gave me just enough to generate an APB."

An uncomfortable stillness falls upon the group when Spencer's name is mentioned. Dr. Lisbon gives a small cough before continuing.

"They duct-taped the nurse to a chair, then hooked her up to the machines, the pulse-ox and the EEG and everything else we had there to monitor Dr. Reid's vitals so the machines wouldn't alert the office."

Hotch interrupted, brow creasing, "Why didn't anyone else see them go in? Was there only one nurse on duty?"

Dr. Lisbon shook her head, "There were two more, but they were making their rounds. They started with room 100, Dr. Reid's in Room 102. His room is also one of the least visible from the nurses' station. From what I can tell, the girls were in the room with him for a good 30 minutes. One unlucky coincidence after another."

_Oh God._

"What happened?" Gideon repeated.

"They probably talked to him for a while, but they clearly came to get rid of him. His breathing tube was forcefully pulled out and his mouth was duct taped to keep him from screaming. The nurses only realized something was wrong when Dr. Reid managed to lean over the side of the bed and unplug the EEG. They rushed to the room and found Sally out cold and tied to a chair in Dr. Reid's room. Dr. Reid himself was barely conscious; his oxygen levels were tanking because his right lung was no longer functioning and his left was on the verge of giving out."

"Then?" Gideon who now has his eyes closed, index finger and thumb pinching his nose bridge, asked quietly.

"We had to insert a chest tube straight away to drain the air and save his lung, without anesthetic. The pain woke Dr. Reid. He started asking for Agent Hotchner, refusing to be sedated. He was very persistent; I believe it was largely due to adrenaline. The rush ran out after he finished delivering his message to you and well… you were there, you saw what happened."

Hotch seems to struggle with himself for a moment. He catches JJ's eye and she feels something inside her break at the look in his eyes.

"How bad is the damage?" Elle. The woman has reappeared quite suddenly behind their small group, face pale and pinched. Her expression is blank but her eyes are clear and bright with fury.

The woman looks at Dr Lee, who starts, "His heart is our biggest worry at the moment. Dr. Reid's body has been put under immense stress and, as you all know, his heart gave out once earlier in the ambulance, and another time just now. That much trauma is never for anybody. He's currently heavily sedated because his waking could trigger another heart attack."

"His lungs are another concern." Dr Lisbon interjects, "The right lung has suffered a lot of trauma and his left lung is completely exhausted from compensating for the lack of oxygen when the tube was pulled out—"

"Is it permanent?" Elle asks the question on all their minds. "The lung damage, is it permanent?"

The man looks at Dr. Lisbon, then back at them, "We don't know. There will be scarring and he'll have to go through a great deal of therapy, and even with that, his right lung will probably never fully recover."

"Shit." JJ stands as the other woman curses, "Fuck."

"Elle." Hotch warns.

"Don't Elle me, Hotch!" she snaps at the man, glaring, "Don't you dare."

"Stop this—"

"This is your fault! If you hadn't asked us to leave Reid and go back, this wouldn't have happened!" her shouts reverberate in the empty hallway.

JJ takes a nervous glance to Hotch as she moves to Elle to placate her, "Elle, Maggie was devolving so quickly and Lila was playing along. No one could've expected Maggie and Lila to show up—"

"Well, he should've known Maggie was going to want take out everyone in her way. We should've known!" She cried. "Now Reid's fighting for his life for the second time in less than 12 hours and we're nowhere close that bitch—"

"Agent Greenaway." Gideon orders. The said woman stops at the address, "Get a hold of yourself. Now."

Elle takes in a deep breath as JJ moves closer, putting an arm around her shoulders. She is relieved when the woman allows her to guide her to a seat.

By the time they are seated, the Dr. Lisbon is talking again.

"His gunshot wound is also infected; we've put him on the strongest course of antibiotics available. It was touch and go for a while, but with his lungs, his heart and the infection all considered, he's doing ok. It looks like he'll be fine."

"He was coughing up blood when I saw him," Hotch said quietly, "Was that from his lungs again?"

"Thankfully, no." the surgeon said, "His throat was heavily bruised from the removal of the tube, so it was bleeding a little. He should be fine, just that it will be hard for him consume solids for a while"

"Can we see him?" JJ asks, but one look at the doctor's face is all the answer she needs.

"After tonight, with the infection and the heart attack, I don't think it is advisable for anybody, besides the nurses, Dr. Lee and I, to come in close contact right now. Dr. Reid's body is in an extremely fragile state right now, and I don't think we should risk it anytime soon. Maybe if things improve, later today I might allow for a visitor or two. I'm sorry." She looks like she means it.

"Thank you, Doctor." Hotch turns to face them as the two doctors take their leave.

"Team—"

His phone rings, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner." There is silence they watch as he falls silent.

"Thank you very much. We're on our way."

"What is it?" Elle asks as he hangs up.

"JJ, call Morgan." Hotch is already walking down the corridor, knowing that the everyone else would be close behind.

"Maggie and Lila have been spotted. We've found her."

* * *

**A/N:**

_**I realized that think might not be clear in the last chapter, but because I've been terribly liberal with all my 'I don't know's with Garcia and Hotch and what not, I think a mini explanation is in order? I don't know (there we go again.)**_

_**Garcia's 'I don't know' to JJ at the end of Chapter 9 just literally means she doesn't know what to do, or what's going to happen to Reid. What Hotch meant by his 'I don't know' actually means he doesn't know if Reid's life was worth risking for the car number plate for Maggie and Lila's car, because there is no guarantee that they'd catch them, even with the numbers.**_

_**Also, as a sidenote, the action is dwindling down(?) but the story's not ending yet! I estimate there to be about... 8 chapters left? Boy that's actually quite a lot, I only just got the numbers out. Expect a lot of talking from now on. I hope you don't mind**!_


	12. level-headed

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

"Mags?"

She doesn't respond. For some reason that makes Lila feel all cold inside.

They were moving east, towards the freeway so that they could skip town. Earlier, they stopped for gas so Lila managed to catch a few seconds of the news broadcast. No news of Spencer.

When she closes her eyes she can see his face, his eyes. Him promising her.

_**I'll be fine.**_

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she turns her attention back to her suddenly stoic friend.

"Maggie?"

"Shut up."

Ok. Now something is definitely up.

"What's wrong? Mags—"

"What's wrong?" her icy tone stabs through the air like a knife, "What's _wrong_?"

"Maggie, I—"

"You lied to me, Lila!" she screams, fist slamming against the wheel. The car jerks dangerously. "You lied!"

Lila bites her lips to keep her tears from falling. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

"I lied?" her voice trembles like a leaf in the wind. "About what?"

"I saw you, I saw you staring!"

"Staring at what?"

The car jerks again and Lila presses herself into her seat. Maggie lets out a small scream of frustration and soon the car slows, stopping at the road shoulder.

"Maggie—"

She flinches as the glare the girl shoots her.

"Don't try to cover it up, Lila. I saw everything. I saw you staring at the news, you bitch! You were looking for him, I could tell!" Maggie roars. Her yell makes Lila's ears hurt.

"Mags, I wasn't looking for him, I was just checking to make sure they don't know what we look like!"

"Bull. I could see it, you were waiting for his name, hoping that your darling Spencer _fuckin' _Reid would show up."

"No, Mags—"

"Stop calling me that!" her shout shocked Lila into silence. The girl could see that Maggie's hands were shaking and is quietly glad they were no longer driving. "You don't even deserve to call me that. You betrayed me, you destroyed what we had."

"Maggie…" she attempts. The girl doesn't make a sound, "Please… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong, tell me what I can do to make up for it."

Her pleas stop abruptly when she finds the gun leveled to her face.

"I'll tell you what you can do." Snarled the girl, "You can shut up this instant, or,"

The gun clicked.

"I shoot you in the face."

* * *

**A/N:**

_**I know I know, this chapter is really incredibly embarrassingly short. But I'm just trying to draw out time? The next update will be soon, probably on Saturday/Sunday so watch out for it! We're coming to the turning point, with Lila and Maggie about to get caught, so stick around.**_

_**Bye for now~**_


	13. the endgame

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

"Target's vehicle has pulled up on the side of the road. No signs of activity. Requesting back up."

Hotch picks up the communicator from the dashboard, "This is the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit, we are en route. Hold your fire. Over."

Derek Morgan leans on the accelerator as they near the site; the roadblocks have been moved to limit the number of vehicles on the road, but he hopes this doesn't end in a shootout. Partially because Lila might get caught up in the crossfire, but mostly because Derek has some scores to settle with the bitch in the car.

"There it is." It is Elle's remark that makes him steal a glance. Ahead, there is a semicircle of police cars surrounding a lone, black SUV. Hotch's grip tightens on the communicator as it buzzes with static, Elle is a tight ball of energy in the back seat. Somehow, it always ends up being the three of them.

_This time,_ Derek promises (himself, his team, everyone) _, this time things are going to be different._

Their car halts just outside the makeshift barricade. Derek slides out of the SUV and slams the door behind him, feeling the Velcro on the Kevlar vest crackle as he shifts. He leaves Hotch to talk to the police chief about the situation and walks up to the edge of the barrier of police vehicles, taking in the scene.

The car is stationary by the road shoulder. Through the windshield, Derek can make out two silhouettes. One is small, curled up against the window so all he sees is the back of her head. The other is Maggie. He's sure of it. Her hair is brown and her face is contorted in a furious expression as she gestures at them but Derek has all but memorised her face after seeing what she did to Reid and he knows that it is her.

_Maggie Lowe._

Hotch came around to stand beside Derek, "Officers say that they've been in there for almost 15 minutes now. Patrol saw the car pull up."

"What are they arguing about?" Elle inquired.

"They don't know. From the looks of it… she's pissed at Lila." Their leader shot them a glance, "her tactic to play along fell through. The illusion is shattered."

_We have to save Lila now, or we won't have anything left to save._

"So what do we do now?"

"We coax her out." As if on cue, the Chief's voice sounds across the area.

_**Maggie Lowe, we have you surrounded. I repeat, we have you surrounded. Please step out of the vehicle. **_

"D'you think she will come out?" Elle asks, staring at the vehicle

"She has nowhere to go. It's her endgame or nothing now. I'm just afraid she might shoot Lila which would then lead to—"

"Suicide by Cop." Derek turns his eyes back to the car. Lila is saying something now. He can't see her face but he prays to God that she isn't antagonising her or going hysterical because that wouldn't help her situation at all.

_**Maggie Lowe, we have you surrounded. Please—**_

"Look." He stares, disbelieving, at the scene that is unfolding before his eyes. "Hotch, Elle. Look."

They are coming out of the car. _They are coming out of the car._

Derek reaches for his holster as Maggie stalks over to the passenger side and pulls open the door. Lila is forced out of the car at gunpoint.

"Don't shoot!" Hotch orders. The stalker pulls her victim up to stand next to her. Lila struggles against her captor briefly, only stopping when the other girl presses the handgun to her temple. The younger actresses eyes dart around frantically, full of panic and fear.

"Maggie!" Elle calls, moving up to stand next to an officer leaning over his car, weapon poised on the girl. "Maggie, let Lila go!"

"No!" the woman shouted back, expression taut with anger, "No, she's going down with me! She lied to me and I'm going to make her pay for it!"

"There's no need to do that! We only want to help you Maggie, let us help you!"

"Help me?" the girl throws her head back as lets out a hysterical bark of laughter, "Help me? All you bastards want to do is turn Lila against me and destroy me! Why should I trust you!"

"Maggie, don't do this!" Derek interjects. He can see Hotch aiming his firearm. He was going to take the shot. "Don't make us shoot you!"

"I'm not afraid of you!" Maggie yells, "I'm not afraid! This will end just how I want it to."

With her hand on Lila's neck, Maggie hoists the girl up and positions them so their heads are aligned. Derek knows what she's about to do when she starts to move the gun to her own temple.

"We will never have to listen to anyone again, we'll be together, forever!"

"Maggie, look at Lila! Look at her!"

"Don't do this—"

Without warning, a shot sounds, and then another. Maggie cries out and her gun drops to the ground.

There is a pause, then Elle pushes past the stunned officers to get to the girls. Derek gets to Maggie just as Lila throws herself at Elle, sobbing. The female agent shoots Derek a glance, then casts a wary look behind him, before leading the young woman away.

He looks back at Hotch.

Their leader is walking towards them, face hard and eyes shining with cold anger. He had fired both shots as he and Elle shouted at the girl; the distraction had been enough for him to send a bullet at her handgun, knocking it out of her hand, and put another bullet in her leg.

The woman thrashes about on the asphalt, crying out as she jarred her leg wound.

"You can't do this! You can't!"

Derek ignored her protests while he read her Miranda rights. As an officer led her away to the waiting ambulance, kicking and screaming and scratching, a flash of sympathy runs through him.

Then he remembers Reid and the feeling is gone.

He notices Hotch staring after the hysterical girl, watching the medic half-carry, half-drag her to the vehicle.

"Hotch."

The leader doesn't look back at him.

"Hotch—"

"I almost took the headshot." Comes a monotonous answer. Derek stops.

Hotch's face is inscrutable as he repeats himself. "I almost took the headshot. I wanted to take the headshot."

He watches the unit chief, a strange feeling settling over him, "Hotch, you did what you had to do."

For a moment, dead air hangs between them like a heavy cloud. Then—

"How am I supposed to tell Reid that I almost killed someone because of what happened to him?" Hotch is still staring as the medics closed the doors. "How am I supposed to face him?"

"It won't matter to Reid, man." When the leader doesn't respond, Derek puts a hand on the other man's shoulder, "Look, Hotch. If you hadn't shot her, Maggie Lowe was going to go down squeezing the trigger, and taking Lila with her. You stopped it from happening."

"But if I had talked to her instead of forcing her hand—"

"Maggie was completely delusional and it would be futile to argue with her. she would have shot Lila and commit suicide anyway."

"But if—"

"Hotch!" in his peripheral vision, he sees Elle turn back slightly to glance at the two of them. She still has her arms around Lila, who is now wrapped in a blanket and has her face hidden in her hands.

"You need to stop second guessing yourself. You did what you have to."

"Morgan, I could've taken the headshot, she would be dead—"

"And the point here being that she isn't, Hotch!" Derek said loudly over his boss, "She's not dead, you didn't kill her."

"I almost did," Hotch looks to Derek, catching his eye. "I very nearly did."

"Well," the younger man put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, "this only means that it matters more that you didn't."

The sentence seem to finally strike home for the man. Derek sees Hotch pause, then the tension eases slightly in the shoulder he has a grip on.

"Reid will understand." Derek draws his hand back, "He's not going to blame you."

The unit chief doesn't say a word as Elle finally releases Lila and walks over to them, cellphone in her palm.

"Morgan, Hotch. The medics have checked Lila once over; the police chief wants to take her back to the station to get her statement." She flicks her phone, "Also, JJ just texted to say that the doctors have cleared Reid for visitors in the evening."

Derek turns to her, "Is he awake?"

"Not yet, but," there is a smile on the woman's dark lips, "they say he's showing signs of improvement, he's going to be just fine."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Derek returns her smile, then his eyes dart to Hotch. The man has regained his composure, and is holstering his gun.

"Let's go."

"Aye, aye captain!" Elle chimes and Derek laughs.

"And Morgan?" their leader already walking towards the car, with Derek and Elle hot on his heels.

"Yeah?"

"Touch me like that again and I will shoot you." There is a beat as he considers if the unit chief is serious, or pulling his leg. Then he sees Hotch's lip twitch upwards.

His grin widens.

"Aye, aye, captain."

* * *

**A/N:**

_**As promised, here's the new chapter! After this, there is very little action, just talking and emotions and stuff. I'm afraid there might be quite a fair bit of grammatical meeting but my brain is on snooze, **__**as it is, I'm falling asleep while typing this. **__**I'm too tired to think of anything more to say so bye for now, thanks for reading. **_


	14. in silence there holds

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

Someone already in the room when he gets there.

Jason stops abruptly at the door, staring at the woman perched at the foot of Reid's bed, using the overbed table as a control centre of sorts. It is so crowded with brown FBI case files and her computer equipment that he has no idea what the original color of the table is.

He moves towards the wall opposite the bed; the woman doesn't seem to see him. Her eyes are glued to her screen and she has her tongue in her cheek, clearly frustrated with something.

"Garcia?"

"Oh!" she jumps rather comically, then regains her composure when he steps forward into the light. "Sir. I didn't see you there."

"It's alright." His eyes flit unconsciously to the agent on the bed. "How is he?"

Garcia's eyes seem to deepen with a strange sort of sadness when she sees him looking at Reid.

"Nothing's change since I got here. Except the oximeter, " she jerked a thumb at the beeping machine behind her. The numbers are mostly stable, except one, "it can't decide if his fever is at 101 or 103."

He pulls up a chair to the left side of the bed, eyes never leaving the kid. The oxygen mask is so big, it looks like it's just about swallowed half of his face. Thankfully, the thin sheets are pulled all the way up to Reid's chest; Jason has heard enough of his injuries to know what roughly what they look like, but if he can't see them he can at least pretend they're not real, and the boy's just sleeping.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are the others?"

"At the station. They're clearing up the place, bringing all the paper here." He murmurs in response. "They don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."

_Like the last time._

The girl acknowledges his reply with a nod. Her typing fills the room again as he draws out something from his pocket. The object is cool in his palm and has been his solace for the past 24 hours. But it is probably time it was returned to its owner.

"Sir? What's that?"

"It's Reid's glasses." Jason raises it for her to see, "You don't happen to have a cloth to clean it with, do you?"

A grin spreads across their technical analyst's face, "But of course, Sir. You're talking to the Goddess of everything and anything."

He bemusedly watches as she rummages through her bright pink handbag. She is definitely a very colorful woman, Jason doesn't mind that, but sometimes, the colors can be a bit… bright, to say the least.

But he knows better the question the likes of her, or anyone on this team for that manner. Too many variables.

She digs for so long that Jason is half a second away from telling her _it's okay, I'll just use a napkin or something_ when she cries out, apparently triumphant in her scavenging.

"There you go, sir." She says warmly, passing him a vibrant, silken yellow and green striped cloth. He looks up at her. They match her glasses. Figures.

"Thank you." He cleans the glasses while watching her sit back down. She's gently moved Reid's gangly legs out of the way so that she can sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Her shoes are lying forlornly on the ground by her bag.

"What are you typing?"

Now it is his turn to ask a question. The whole time he's been here, she's done nothing but type, apart from pausing briefly to talk.

"Nothing much, just the usual. I'm writing up my report, and compiling and entering in all the information we've gathered on this case into our database." Garcia shrugs as he presses the cloth to the cool lens of the glasses. "And I'm also trying to clear some of Reid's paperwork for him."

Jason can't help but be surprised, "You do that for him normally?"

The question takes a moment to register. Garcia's typing stops and she raises her eyes to look at him, then it dawns on her.

"Oh!" she exclaims, waving her hands in front of her, "No, no. I've never done any paperwork for him before. Never!"

She quietens when Jason raises a finger to his lips, then nods his head to Reid, who has not moved the entire time they've been here.

"I just… I've seen many of your reports a billion times pass through the databases. Sometimes when I'm bored, I go in and read through some of them. I know how to write the basic ones." Her eyes go to the boy, and stay there.

"I know I shouldn't be doing it for him, and he's more than capable of finishing it. It's just that…"she hesitates, "this case has taken so much out of him already. I don't want him to be worrying about stuff like paperwork when he wakes up. I know I can't fill in everything, but I can clear a few for him. Lessen his load a little."

"Mmm." Garcia returns her eyes to her screen; Jason notes that, despite her perfectly done make up and bright eye-shadow, her expression is etched with weariness unbefitting for someone her age.

He turns at Reid, and notes, with a twinge of sadness, the lines on his youthful face. Against his gaunt pallor, the shadows under his eyes are stark, permanent.

If it's one thing he's learnt from doing this job, it is that it only makes you older. Every victory drives you, but there are only that many triumphs.

Sometimes he looks at Reid and wonders if his youth would have been better spent doing something more radical, more fantastical. But then another case arrives on his table and the urgency sweeps those feelings to the back of his mind.

"Sir—"

A soft ruffle from the bed halts Garcia mid-sentence and makes them both turn.

Reid is stirring fretfully, his head turning slightly. They watch as he turns back. A small noise, barely distinguishable, rises from the back of the boy's throat. The pulse-ox registers a slightly elevated pulse, beeping more urgently.

"Reid?" the girl says softly as Jason stands, moving closer to the bed to see if the young man was truly waking.

Reid utters the same soft mewl, brow crumpling slightly. Then his eyes flutter open, blurrily.

"Spencer!" the boy does not respond the sound, but instead blinks and turns away, muttering something. Jason strains to hear but it is so soft that he can't tell what the kid is saying.

After a while, Reid's blank eyes fall shut. His breathing evens and his heart rate returns to normal.

"Asleep." Jason glances at Garcia, who looks disappointed.

"Well. At least we know he's still in there." Her tone is quiet.

He settles back in his chair, eyes still fixed on Reid. Watches his chest rise and fall. Watches his breath ghost across the inside of the mask, clouding it. He tries to memorise the look on the boy's face because he doesn't know how many times in his lifetime he'll get to see him look so at peace.

"Sir?"

"Mm."

"You've been cleaning the glasses for the past 15 minutes," he turns his gaze to Garcia. Her own brilliantly colored spectacles reflect flash white with the light from the computer screen, "I think you'll wear a hole in the lens if you don't stop soon."

Jason is momentarily struck by the comment, then he chuckles.

"I'm done." He folds the cloth into a neat square and hands it silently back to her. She takes it.

Leaning back into the chair, Gideon folds up the legs of the glasses. Checks it once over. He feels Garcia looking at him as he sets the object on the bedside table.

_There. Good as new. _

"It's like you're holding on to a piece of him, isn't it?" Garcia says quite suddenly, breaking the silence. He glances to the woman. She looks him straight in the eye. Her fingers are wrung together, on her lap, no longer typing.

"I know how it feels," she elaborates. "It is like… if you hold on tightly enough to them, that piece that belongs to him, that _is_ part of him, he won't slip away. If you hold on tight enough, it keeps him here. It keeps you here too."

The absence of noise is one that affects him, somewhere deep in his core. Even after Garcia quietly moves back to her typing, even after the beeping and the sound of Reid breathing becomes the only other noises in that small space, there is a calm that is in him. The tranquillity that came from that one observation the woman is astounding.

Jason steeples his fingers together and just watches, allowing the sound of the typing, the beeping and the boy's soft breaths wash over him.

It also strikes him, much later, that Garcia is probably a better profiler than they give her credit for.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**As you can probably tell, I like Garcia a lot. She gets some of the more important features in the POVs of other people :) and later she has a whole part to herself can't wait omg I'm getting excited over my own story why.**_

_**I don't know if I've mentioned this before but Gideon is not one of my favorite characters. I like the way he thinks I just don't like the way he treated Reid sometimes. But over all his personality is the easiest for me to write, next to Hotch.**_

_**Ok I got to go now! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter:D**_


	15. the day after

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

Waking comes to Reid slowly, awareness comes even slower.

He still feels warm, but for some reason, this warmth feels better, safer. There is a mask on his face. He can feel the molded plastic pressing against his nose bridge, taste his sandpapery tongue, and smell the clean oxygen.

Slowly, Reid starts to take in the rest of his surroundings. Tuning out the hissing, beeping, squeaking sounds of the machines, he realises that there are other people the room with him. It is as if he's a single fish floating in a bowl of water, with these people walking around him and talking in muffled, dreamy, echo-y voices.

His limbs are made of lead and his eyelids are too heavy to lift so he lies there for a while, contentedly. For now there is no pain, but if he moves, everything might just come back. He doesn't want that.

_They won't mind it if I lie here for a while, would they? I've probably been lying here for a while now, a little more won't make much of a difference…_

Someone starts talking; it takes a bit of effort to focus on it. In an instance, he recognises the voice.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since they let us in. Garcia says he's woke for a few minutes yesterday evening when we were wrapping up things at the station, and Hotch reported him doing the same when I ducked out for breakfast. But he wasn't coherent. Just mumbled a few things and then passed out again."

The first voice belongs to Morgan, he is sure of it. The second is Elle. He knows that lilt anywhere but there is a quality to her voice that he's never heard before. She sounds… concerned. They're both somewhere the end of the bed, with Elle closer to the bed and Morgan somewhere further, probably near the window; he remembers seeing a window in his room when he woke up earlier.

Granted, the company was a deranged stalker, a terrified, traumatized victim and an unconscious nurse, but he'd rather not think of that right now.

There is a distinctive buzz when someone turns on the television and the cheery jingle of a commercial fills the room. The volume is turned down.

"Morgan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think he can hear us?"

"Dunno." The voices are becoming clearer. There's the sound of someone, Morgan perhaps, flipping channels. "Why don't you tell him a joke or somethin', see if he wakes up with a smart-ass answer for you."

Morgan is teasing again. If Reid physically able, he'd open his mouth and—

_Smack!_

"Ow! What was that for!" Reid smiles inwardly. Clearly Elle had the same idea.

Well, not the _same._ If it was up to Reid he'd probably rebut Morgan's suggestion with the counter argument that there is no such thing as a smart-ass, given that an ass refers to a part of the human body _and_ lacks the capability to think for itself, thus rendering the preceding adjective invalid. Even so, in slang, smart-asses are usually refer to smart-alecks or people who use sarcasm to irritate others. Reid was neither of those so he could never be a smart-ass, much less answer like one.

"You're teasing an unconscious man who can't fight back. If that's not rude, I don't know what is." Elle shoots back just as there are footsteps, someone on heels.

"What's rude?"

JJ.

"Morgan was teasing Reid." Reid wants to smile at Elle's answer but his lips are unresponsive. She sounds just like a child, tattling on another sibling to a parent.

"No, I wasn't."

"You was!"

"_Were__**.**_" Elle huffs as Morgan chuckles, "Grammar, Greenaway."

"It was a slip of the tongue! You keep your smart comments to yourself, Mister."

"Stop fighting, kids." He can smell JJ's distinctive perfume as she walks over to his left side.

"How is he?"

_I'm fine. _He wants to tell them, _Guys, I'm fine, stop asking._

"The same."

"Fever?"

"101.2. He's much, much better." Offers Elle. A cool hand presses itself against his forehead.

"Doesn't feel like it. He's so warm."

_I'm not warm, Jayje, your hand is just cold._

"Well, it is. In fact, it's gone down a lot already. You should have seen him when it spiked at 104 last night, during my shift. I thought Doc Lisbon was going to blow an aneurysm. Then just as she ordered the ice packs in it started to drop."

"You gotta admit," mused Morgan, "Kid's got one hell of a timing."

Reid can't see it, but the silence feels like the two women are agreeing with Morgan.

For a few minutes there is blissful quiet, save for the occasional spurts of noise coming from the television. There is a squeak as JJ settles into a chair just by arm. He can feel the bed depress slightly when she rests her forearms on the mattress, her gentle fingers as she combs them through his hair.

He normally doesn't like people touching him, but this feels nice.

Midway through the show he feels another hand slip delicately beneath his right hand, carefully lacing their fingers together. The cannula at the back of his hand makes itself known with a twinge.

Elle. Its Elle. Her grip is smooth and strong, firm without being aggressive. He wishes he could open his eyes and look at her and tell her he's fine. But his eyelids are too heavy.

They stay like this for a while, JJ running her fingers through his hair and Elle holding his hand. they don't say anything, but he knows what they're thinking.

**Wake up, Reid.**

_I can't._

**Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up—**

The stroking stops.

"Elle, did you see that?" Suddenly the TV goes quiet and Elle's hand is suddenly gone. His palm is left feeling empty.

"See what?"

"His eyes, they moved."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Then why isn't he waking?"

"Hey, Reid! Are you awake?" Morgan's shout sends an ice pick through his brain, so suddenly, he jolts. A headache suddenly descends upon him. _God, why did he have to do that_, Reid thinks as he tries not to contort his face in to a grimace.

"Spence?"

"He moved when he heard me, I saw it."

_Yeah Morgan, that's because you practically shouted into my ear—_

"Reid, can you open your eyes for us?" he'd never heard Elle speak so gently before. Usually she was brash, loud, opinionated.

"C'mon, man. Keep trying."

Their voices jar his headache. In fact, it isn't just his head, it feels as if his body is having some sort of delayed reaction to the pain. The familiar throb in deep his core registers quite suddenly, radiating bouts of fire to the rest of his torso. He feels exhausted for no reason, like he'd run a 10 mile race the day before and is only feeling the ache now. Most of all, he is slightly perturbed by the fact that it seems like there is an elephant sitting on his chest; he can't take a deep enough breath without having his ribs twinge painfully and his throat sear with pain, as if he's swallowing razors.

It's not as bad as the last time, but he isn't entirely comfortable either.

_Focus on their voices. Ignore the pain. Focus on them._

"Spencer?"

"Kid, open up. C'mon, you can do it."

"Reid."

_Not too loud_, he tries, but it comes out as a very soft, "Nnn—"

"Reid!" it's like Morgan put a red-hot poker to his temple.

"Nggaah…" he groans, squirming to turn his head to the left. Too loud, way too loud.

"Reid? Reid are you ok? Are we too loud?" JJ asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.

He manages a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Elle hisses at Morgan (_– see, you're too loud you idiot— sorry, I didn't know—_) and despite the stabbing pain in his head, he feels like smiling.

"Spence, please open your eyes. Let me see those beautiful brown eyes."

With JJ's encouragement, Reid decides to try again. This time, his eyelids flutter a little. Frustration builds as he forces them open, only to have them shut again.

_Why. Won't. They. Open. _He grits his teeth.

"Maybe it's too bright. Morgan, go turn off the light." heavy footsteps move away and the pressure on his eyes ease slightly.

"There. Reid, is that better?"

_Yes, _he wants to tell Elle, _It is. _But he can't speak so he does the next best thing.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the ceiling. It is vaguely familiar, this scenario, but this time it's different. This time, Maggie isn't here.

"Mmf—" a hand catches his as he reaches for the mask.

"Whoa there cowboy, take it easy." Morgan. "Don't touch that. The doc says your lungs aren't strong enough yet."

"J-J…" he turns towards her voice and her face enters his line of sight, blue eyes brilliantly bright.

"Spence? I'm right here."

"Can I… s' up…" he manages between breaths, wincing at the tight feeling that stretches across his chest and the way the words grind like rocks against his sore throat.

Her brow crumples.

"I don't…" She glancess desperately at Elle and Morgan, who look just at lost.

Reid tries again, but he finds that his voice is stuck in his throat. He attempt to make a sound nothing comes out. There is a soreness in his throat, kind of like that one time when he got laryngitis.

Great. If he can't speak, how is he supposed to tell them what he wants?

_Wait, wait. I can write it out. Pen…_

Reid taps JJ on her arm, then makes a writing motion. She understands him in a beat.

"Oh. Oh! Morgan, pas me that note book on your side." She pulls out a pen from her pocket and slips it into his right hand while Morgan flips the book a blank page.

From this vantage point, it's hard to see what he's writing. But he tries anyway.

'I want to sit up.'

"You want to sit up?"

_Thank God. It's legible._

"You sure?" Morgan asks, sounded a little apprehensive.

'Yes.' He scribbles quickly.

"Maybe you shouldn't, Spence." JJ looks worried.

He knows it's ridiculous, but lying down makes him uncomfortable. He feels smaller, naked. And it's not something that he likes to put on display for everyone to see, his vulnerability.

"You don't have to if you don't feel up to it, kid. You've had two major surgeries in the last 48 hours, its ok to feel a little out of it. We won't mind if you wanna go back to sleep."

Reid exhales. He is in no mood to argue terms with Morgan.

'_Just halfway. Please?'_

"Kid—"

"Let him," Elle interjects from somewhere on his right. He really can't see anything from this position.

"Ok." There is a clicking sound and the bed vibrates again. He shuts his eyes against the waves of roiling heat as the bed moves him, at an agonising snail pace, to a semi-sitting position.

The pain must have shown on his face because when the bed stops, he can feel JJ's hand on his forehead again and Morgan's low, unnaturally anxious timbre.

"Reid? Kid? You alright?"

His hand is tingling as he grasps the pen the best he can with his shaky grip and scrawls.

'_Fine. Give me a minute.'_

Several deep breaths later, the fire fades to a sluggish throb and he feels safe enough to open his eyes again.

"Do you want us to call the nurse?" he turns his eyes to a very worried-looking JJ. "That looked painful."

He shakes his head, trying not to flinch at the unhappy throb of the headache.

"You sure?" Elle is looking at the screen of the pulse-ox monitor, "You're running a bit of a temperature."

'Yes.' He knows he should be resting. He can feel the fever, the heat in his bones. Exhaustion is weighing down on his limbs and he feels permanently winded, but he's not about to tell them that. They'll freak.

Most importantly, he can't go to sleep. He has too many questions and he wants some answers.

Now he's upright, he can pull the notebook up to his lap and write. He scrawls out a series of questions before turning the book to face the others.

'_How long was I out?'_

'_Where's Lila and Maggie?'_

'_Is Lila safe?'_

'_Where's everyone else?'_

"About a day and a half. You gave us real scare kid."

He winced apologetically when he remembered the last time he saw Morgan. And Hotch. An unconscious twinge of pain spikes across his chest. Nevertheless, he taps the pen at the next two questions.

The room goes quiet. _Oh no._ his heart sinks as JJ's expression darkens. _Oh no._

He taps the questions again, more urgently this time.

Finally, Morgan speaks, grimly. "Maggie got shot in the leg. She's is in custody. Lila is safe."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then Reid feels his body sag with relief.

_Safe. She's safe._

Reid is sort of glad that Maggie is alive too, even though for what she put all her victims and Lila through, even though there is an evil little voice in his head telling him that she deserved a fate worse than a bullet to the leg. But no one should wish for someone else to be dead, no matter what the person has done. Everyone needs a second chance, and in Maggie's case, professional help.

"Lila may be coming around tomorrow. She is anxious to see you." Elle adds, interrupting his thoughts.

'_Is Lila ok?'_ He taps, then scratches out the last question and replaces it with, _'Is everyone else ok?'_

"Everyone else is fine. Maggie went down easier than we thought she would. As for Lila… she's okay. Mostly. When we got her out of the station and into a hotel she had a panic attack. Took a while to calm her. Hotch thinks she needs some rest first, before she's ready to see her hero. " JJ answered with a small smile. Behind her, Morgan grins.

"I don't know how you always get these ladies on your side, pretty boy. And I thought I was a player."

'_I don't know what you're talking about.'_ Reid scribbles as Elle reaches over and pushes the man for teasing him.

"Did you get hit too hard over the head kid? You really need to go out more—"

Reid shrugs, nonchalant.

"Boys, boys. Settle down." JJ quips. Morgan shuts his mouth, but not before rolling his eyes at Reid. The latter smiles.

The others go quiet as more questions come.

'_Did Maggie tell you everything?'_

"Not really…" His best friend trails off, his eyes darting to JJ.

"Hotch tried to interview her, but she went a little ballistic on us." JJ explained.

"A little is an understatement," snorts Morgan.

"Yeah, well. They put her in the psych ward and are waiting for her to wake. Until then, we know nothing from her side."

Silence falls as Reid thinks back to the start, seeing the memories run across his mind's eye like a movie reel. Then he remembers Morgan and Elle, their voices waking him up after he'd passed out from the blood loss.

'_Thanks for coming for me,'_ he pauses for a moment before adding. _'When you did.'_

His writing is hurried and a little tangled together, but they seem to get it.

"We did what we had to." Elle says quietly, "We just wish we could have gotten there sooner. Were you the one who knocked over the lamp?"

'_I came to when you guys were storming the front.'_ Suddenly, Morgan looks pained and Elle's gaze is hard to return so he turns his eyes back onto the book and writes as fast as he can.

'_I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. So I pulled the cord of the lamp and the whole thing came down.'_

There is a strained pause as they all take in what he said. JJ is running her fingers through his tangled hair again and Elle's hand has, at some point, come to rest on his knee.

Then Morgan speaks.

"What happened in Lila's house, Reid?"

The question they've all been dying to ask. He can see it on their faces.

'_What do you want to know?'_

The three exchange a look. Reid sighs.

'_Everything?'_

Three nods. He takes a deep breath and conjures up the memory.

**A sharp pain slices through the side of his head. Lila's eyes go wide and her mouth opens. He can't hear her. What is she saying?**

'_Do you have a computer? It'll be faster if I type.' _He watches JJ scramble to grab her bag while saying that she has her laptop somewhere. Morgan is eager to help, Elle just watches with him, looking lost.

He sighs for the second time in less than 5 minutes.

This is going to take a while.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**Holyshitthischapterissolong.**_

_**Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter:) Once again, thank you for all your comments on the previous chapter, I'm extremely happy that you all enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it. It is my favourite chapter by far.**_

_**Anyway, I hope you like this chapter too? I just love it when Reid interacts with people, his chapters are always a pleasure to write.**_

_**Thanks for reading! See you next week:D**_

_**PS: I nearly forgot! I wanted to draw up a simplistic timeline for the chapters, just in case things got confusing (because I'm starting to get a little confused myself this story is too long.) You don't really have to read this, this is more for my own reference or whoever's confused about the timings of the events.**_

Day 1 Late Evening to Night (Maggie and Lila disappear, Reid gets shot): Chapter 1-5

Day 2 Early Morning to Afternoon (Maggie and Lila go see Reid, Maggie is arrested, case closed): Chapter 6-13

Day 2 Evening (Questioning and paperwork finished up, Team packs up in station while Gideon visits Reid): Chapter 14

Day 3 Evening (Reid wakes up): Chapter 15

Day 4 Late Morning to Afternoon (-tbc-): Chapter 16-17

Day 5 Early Morning (-tbc-): Chapter 18


	16. the flaw

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

She jerks the handcuffs at her wrist, glaring darkly at the door. She can hear them talking, probably about her.

"I know you're there!" Maggie shouts, as loud as she can.

There is no answer.

_Fucking g-men, pretentious and –_

"What are you waiting for?" The empty room rings with her call. The empty beds all around her stare at her silently. "I can hear you!"

When the soft murmuring outside the ward's door doesn't cease, she tries something else.

"Don't you want to get back to that agent of yours? What's his name," she smiles viciously no one in particular, "Spencer Reid?"

She knows she's hit the right spot when the voices stop, and this makes her grin.

_Gotcha._

The door opens. She spins around quickly to look, expecting to see the muscled guy with the weird shave or what's his face in the stiff suit. But it was neither.

A woman walks in. Maggie has never seen her before, her dark shoulder length hair is a deep chocolate and her face is angular and sultry, like a cat. Completely opposite of her Lila but still rather pretty, in an exotic way.

"Who are you? Where's the idiot that shot me in the leg?" She tugged at her restraints. "Or that ass that watched me get cuffed?"

The woman just walks over, refusing to answer her question. Maggie can read the name on the visitor badge as she gets closer.

_Elle Greenaway._

"Where's Lila? I want to see her."

This lady blatantly ignores her, taking a seat and flipping open a file (where did she get that from) to write in it.

"Hey, can you answer me?" She tries again, "Is this some sort of new tactic? I told you, I didn't do anything wrong. All I want to do is see Lila."

Nothing. This bitch. "Hello? Are you deaf or something?"

It's like she's not even there. The sound of pages flipping and pen scrapes cut through the tense air of the room.

Finally, Maggie exploded.

"Are you deaf, bitch? I asked you a question!" Maggie lets out a bark of laughter.

"Good God, they send a deaf and dumb person in to try and squeeze something out of me. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be releasing me now? From what I heard, you have nothing on me. By the way, your key witness, Lila? She's my best friend, she knows I did nothing wrong. She'll never say anything to hurt me." The Elle lady just keeps on writing. What the hell is she writing that is more important than this conversation?

Maggie continues as nonchalantly as she can. "But I guess with your Spencer hurt, you have to put up some sort of front and try to get something out."

The writing falters.

"He's hurt isn't he?" she questions. "How is he, then? Is he still alive?"

The pen stops. The reaction makes her smile.

"I knew it. He's dead. He's as dead as can be." She tilted her head in mock curiosity. "What happened to him?"

Elle's grip tightens on her pen.

"So no one knows what happened? Damn. That's a shame." Maggie smiles wider and leans forward, as far as the cuffs and her throbbing leg can allow. She's so close to the agent that she can smell her spicy shampoo and see the sheer layer of blush on her high cheekbones.

"Don't you want to know," she breathes, enjoying the barely masked flinch from Elle, "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" the woman speaks, voice taut.

"She speaks!" Maggie explained. "I mean what happened between us and him that made me shoot him, silly. Don't you know what happened?"

Elle doesn't respond.

Maggie leans back against the pillows, eyes raised mockingly to the ceiling, as if she's thinking, "Where should I start? Ah yes, when that stupid agent of yours tried to fool Lila into liking him. You see, he tried to make my Lila believe that she was in love with him. It worked, at first. Lila's not very clever, she is very trusting. He made use of that."

She twisted the cuff thoughtfully. "I came over to talk to Lila, I was waiting in her room for her. He suddenly barged in waving his stupid gun about." She shrugged, "I mean what was that about? I didn't do anything to him and he was pointing a gun at me."

"Naturally, I had to protect myself so I took out my gun too. I brought the gun from my car after I heard on the news that Lila's manager, that Michael guy, had been killed. I figured Lila's stalker was killing everyone she knew as well so I felt safer if I was armed."

A sudden anger surged through her as she recalled the scene. "Then that asshole pointed the gun at me and asked me to calm down when _he_ was the one that pulled out the gun first. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about and asked him to let Lila come to me. He refused, had her fooled. Said she was in love with him and they kissed. I got angry because he was lying. But I was scared he might hurt Lila so I said ok, I'll hand the gun over to him if he'd let Lila go."

She stops. This Elle person stares at her as if she had grown an extra nose or eye.

"Then what?" Comes a curt question.

"I kept my side of the bargain! I handed the gun over to him but he refused to let Lila come over to me. That's when Lila broke down. She was scared, of course. He was scaring her, with his lies and his stupid gun." She tried to gesture but stopped short when the cuff cut into her wrist. Maggie gave her cuff an irritable jerk. "Can you please get this thing off me? It's hurting my wrist."

"No." The lady's face is neutral but there is a slight tremor to her voice. "I want to know what you did to Spencer."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "He turned around, probably to ask her to shut up, then I had enough, I picked up my gun and knocked him over the head with it. But that jerk refused to stay down. He tried to attack Lila and me. So I shot him."

The girl finished. For some reason, the thought of Spencer Reid bleeding out on the carpet made her smile. Good riddance.

"You're sick." Elle grinded. Maggie turned to look at her, mildly surprised.

"It was purely self-defense. You can't convict me on just that." Maggie took a moment to savor the look on the agent's face. "I'm going to put in a request for my lawyers soon, and I get an insanity plea. You all practically gave it to me, look where I am! You idiots placed me in a mental ward and I'm sure it's not because the food is better."

The shocked silence that follows after fills her with euphoria. The crushing blankness in Elle's eyes almost makes her feel sorry for the agent.

"Listen, Elle." Maggie says sympathetically. "I'm sorry your friend died. I didn't mean to hurt him, he just came at Lila and I so fast, I had to defend myself. I'm sorry he had to die like that but honestly, you don't have any proof to show that I did anything wrong."

"But we do." A deep gruff voice comes from the door. Maggie's head shoots up. There is a man in his late fifties standing at the door, arms crossed and looking extremely stern.

"I'm sorry, and you are..?"

"Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, Ms. Lowe."

"Okay, old man." Maggie snaps, impatient, "What do you mean you all have proof?"

"I mean," Agent Gideon starts slowly, "We have our technical analyst analyzing the footage now, we have enough to convict you with assault of a federal agent."

"Footage? As in security footage?" she throws her head back with a shout of laughter. "You can't arrest me for just that."

"No we can't," Elle cuts in, quietly, "But we can with Agent Reid's statement. That combined with the eye-witness accounts is enough to send you away for a long time."

"Wait. Wait..." it's like a hole suddenly appeared in her stomach and sucked all her insides out, "Spencer Reid is not dead?"

"He woke up yesterday and he's going to make a fully recovery." The man answers. "He gave us a statement as soon as he woke up."

"But… but…"

"See, Maggie, Lila is not the only one who can act. And speaking about Lila." now the Elle woman looks relaxed, smug almost, "you said she wouldn't cooperate? Funny, I've never seen a witness more willing to talk to us about what happened."

"Then… then why…" she swallowed drily, "Then why do you still need to come in here to talk to me."

"So we can link you to the other murders."

Maggie startles. Her mind is racing a mile an hour as she tries to talk her way out, "You can't link me to the rest of the murders! I didn't confess to them, because I didn't do it!""

"But it's strange, _Mags_," Elle leans forward, expression unreadable but eyes dancing. Gideon just watches, "How did you know that Michael Ryer was dead? As far as we know, other than us, only his family and Lila know he has been killed. We have yet to release the news of his death to the press."

There is nothing more she can say. Maggie just sat, dumbstruck, staring back at the two agents in disbelief.

"You see, Maggie. We had enough to put you away for 10 years but now," suddenly Elle was holding out a black object in front of her, "with this recording, I figure you'll get to spend the rest of your life in a nice sanitarium in Chicago. We figured you need some time away from everyone, you see."

"You can't do this." Maggie hears herself saying, numbly, "My lawyers will make sure that recording unusable as evidence. I was questioned against my will."

"But we are entitled to hold you in custody for 48 hours before releasing you, and in that 48 hours we can question you all we like. Didn't you have your rights read out to you? " Agent Gideon interjects calmly.

_No. No, they can't do this._

"Stop. Wait—"

Elle is already getting off the seat, turning to leave. "Sorry Maggie, but we can't. We have to go, we've got a case to present to the judge and arrests to make."

Gideon leaves as quickly as he came, but it's not till the female agent is at the doorway when Maggie lets out a yell. A raw primal god-forsaken shout of utter frustration. She feels like she's drowning in a pit of quicksand, and no one is throwing a rope out to save her.

"You can't do this!" she cries, "You can't!"

There is a short pause, then the woman finally answers, pity and anger radiating from her every word in equal measure.

"Don't you see Maggie?" The look in Elle's eyes is crippling. "We already did."

* * *

**A/N:**

_**This is a completely unplanned chapter, it popped into my head and I literally, as in really literally churned this out in 2 days, between lessons in schools and breaks during my extra-curricular stuffs. I don't really care how coherent this is, my incoherency has been a bit of a topic with my tutors recently and I'm done worrying about whether people understand me or not, my opinion is that to find some order in your life you have to be a bit messy first.**_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! I know it's a day late but like I said, the chapter was only completed today because I'm a procrastinator with very little time on her hands.**_

_**Have a good week ahead! Stay awesome, people:D**_


	17. with a cherry on top

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

"Special delivery for Spencer Reid?"

The boy looks up from the case file he's looking at. He's sitting cross-legged on the bed, his baggy Star Trek T-shirt that JJ brought for him pulled over the bandages on his torso. The glasses Gideon left on the bedside table earlier is perched on his nose, slightly askew.

His face brightens upon seeing her.

"Garcia." Penelope tries not to wince at how hoarse he sounds; She lifts the bouquet of daises in her hand.

"Flowers?"

"You shouldn't have," he mumbles as she walks over and sets it down by the bedside table. "But thanks. Is that coffee I smell?"

"Sweetie, you have bloodhound's nose when it comes to that drink," Penelope dangles the styrofoam cup before his face. Seeing his growing grin makes her heart light.

He makes a move to take it from her but she swings it out of his way, "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"What thing?"

"The thing I texted you. C'mon, I know you know it. Eidetic memories don't lie."

His face flushes. She wishes she has a camera so she can take a picture, "Garcia, someone might hear, this place is swarming with people."

"Nuh-uh! You have to say it. C'mon, there's no one else here, be a man."

She can see the wheels in that brain of his spinning. She moves the beverage further away.

"Garcia!"

"Say it!"

"My throat still hurts!"

"Not an excuse! Say it!"

As they argued, Garcia can't help but notice how much better Spencer looks. There's a little color in his face and he's shaved since she last saw him. He appears less gaunt without that horrible oxygen mask; they've replaced that thing with a nasal cannula, thank goodness.

Spencer mutters something, looking embarrassed. She grins.

"What's that? Can't hear you." the tease makes him flush.

"Garcia is the Goddess of All Things and I am forever indebted to her Excellency for her generosity and kindness." He rushes out, "to repay that debt, I will allow her to spank me, when she sees fit."

"Good boy." She hands him the cup, "Now that isn't so bad, is it?"

"Why would you want to spank me?" Spencer mutters darkly into the steaming liquid as he raises it to his lips.

"Did you say something?" he chokes as she says, voice poisonously sweet, "Should I exercise my privilege now?"

"Nothing! I said nothing." The young genius corrected hastily, inching further back into his pillows. As he sips his coffee, Penelope settles down in the chair, watching him. Her eyes unconsciously drop to the neckline of his shirt; she can see a strip of the bandages peeking through the hem of the collar.

"Garcia—" a cough cuts him off in mid-sentence. Swiftly, Penelope plucks the coffee out of his hand while simultaneously patting his back. When it doesn't help, she makes him lie down.

"I told you coffee is not meant to be drunk that fast." Penelope chides as sternly as she can, even though she knows perfectly well that the coffee had nothing to do with the coughs. But there is only so much she can do.

_His lungs._

She pushes him a glass of water, getting him drink at least half before he can set it down.

"Sorry." The boy manages in between coughs. The fit lasts for about a minute before he finally recovers. His arms are wrapped tightly around his chest, where she knows the wound and broken ribs are, and he's gone all quiet and pale again. All that coughing must have hurt. She saw this happen yesterday, when they first took him off the oxygen. Gideon reported another similar fit earlier this morning, during his watch.

A chill settles over her.

_What if he never gets better? What if he's stuck like this? _

She shakes the thoughts from her mind, berating herself. Spencer is going to get better. He's going to be fine, he'll be back in the field in no time.

"Penelope?" she starts at the sound of her own name. It sounds so foreign coming from Spencer.

"Yeah?"

"Um…" he shifts uncomfortably against the pillows, "What are you thinking about?"

"What?"

"You've got that look."

Despite herself, she raises an eyebrow at the kid. "What look?"

"The kind of look people get when they think of something bad that they don't want to think about?"

She stifles a curse. _Great. Now he can read minds too._

"Nah, I was just thinking." Penelope pokes his knobbly knee. "Move. I wanna sit."

"Of what?" he asks as she settles down.

"Mmm…"

"Garcia."

"Mm…" She casts her mind about for a topic, "Lila. You're seeing Lila later right?"

"Don't change the topic!"

"You are aren't you?" she points at his face, "Tell me everything now."

"Everything? What everything?"

"I don't know, like, what you're going to say to her? What are you going to talk about? Stuff like that! C'mon, I know you've got conversation ideas in that head of yours, spit it out."

"Um…" he fiddles with the worn corner of the case file that he stopped looking at a long time ago. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" echoes Garcia.

"We'll probably just… talk?" Spencer splays his thin fingers out on his lap as he leans back into the pillows, "I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know? You must have something you want to talk to her about?"

After a moment, he says slowly, "I want to talk about the case, about the last time I saw her… But technically, I'm not supposed to—"

"Reid."

"Fine! I don't know if she would want to."

Penelope softens at the agitated note in his voice. "Reid, I'm sure she'll be fine—"

"But what if she doesn't?" He exclaims, "What if it brings back memories, what if she gets upset? I don't want her to get upset. What if…"

The boy furrows his brow, trailing off. Garcia turns her body around so they're sitting opposite each other, on the hospital bed. "What if what, hun? Tell me."

"What," he starts, eyes dropping to the pages of the file, "What if she blames me? What if she blames me from letting Maggie take her?"

His voice is so small, so forlorn, Garcia feels her insides twist. Then she reaches over…

And hits him once over the head. Hard.

"Ow, Garcia!" he lifts a hand to rub the sore spot, wincing. "What's that for?!"

"For a genius, you're awfully stupid," she says a stiff edge creeping into her voice, "How on Earth is any of this your fault?"

He looks a little thrown off at her reprimand. "If I had taken more precautions, looked out for Lila better, Maggie wouldn't have taken her. And if I managed to call up someone when they came around to find me—"

"How dare you."

Spencer's eyes flit back at her, wide and staring. Confused.

"Garcia—"

"How dare you. How dare you, Spencer Reid." Fury erupts like a small explosion in the pit of her chest, "How dare you, after all the days we spent worrying for you, after everything. How dare you even _suggest_ that you would throw everything away in a second just to stop Maggie."

"But Garcia, that's my job!" the kid shouts, defensively.

"You just keep that mouth shut, young man." He flinches at her harsh tone, "Stop making excuses for yourself. That is not your job. No part of your job requires you to make irresponsible choices and sacrifices. And the last time I checked, making reckless decisions and getting yourself killed falls right under the category of that. No. That's definitely not your job. That is your _ego_."

She grits out the last word like a sharp-edged dagger and feels a twisted sort of satisfaction when the boy looks mortified.

"But I was supposed to keep her safe—"

"And you did exactly that, Spencer!" now it's her turn to raise her voice. The sound echoes strangely in the small room, "You talked to her, gave her the tools to work things out and play along. That's exactly what kept her alive the whole time she was with Maggie. That's what gave her the idea to leave you with the car plate number, the lead that brought us to them."

At least the kid has the brains to stop interrupting. He just listens, eyes oddly glazed and mouth hanging slightly open.

"Taking unsubs like Maggie head-on is never the solution, you're the profiler, you should know that. Morgan told us what you did, how you tried to talk her down." She pauses for a breath, then continues, tone softening, "What you did in that room, Spencer? What you did for Lila? Now that's amazing. Your decision to talk Maggie down matters more than the act of attacking the woman on the spot could ever have. Because if you'd took her on without thinking, more than one person could be dead and I doubt Lila will ever recover from that."

Her words hang above their heads, vibrating like a ball of tempered energy in the room as it waits for someone to break the silence. They seem to have sucked the warmth out of the room, and Penelope starts to regret it. But then the thought of Spencer beating himself up over something that he couldn't control quench the fire of guilt in her stomach.

The boy needed to hear it. Whether he wanted to or not. He needs this. He needs to be able to understand that it's not his fault.

"Listen here, Spencer Reid. I don't care what you think, but what happened with Lila and Maggie was never your fault. You couldn't have known what she was going to do. No one could. We're all very proud of you, Spencer. What you did saved Lila's life. You looked out for her the best you could and you held out for her when she came to you for help. Keeping a clear mind when you're in that much pain is not easy. You did your best and that's all that matters, Spencer Reid. That's all there is to it."

The silence hangs in the air for the better part of 5 minutes. She stares at him, willing him to look up.

When he finally does, their eyes lock and there is understanding in his eyes. A breath escapes from Penelope's lips.

_Finally._

Then—

"But…"

Spencer stops, uncertainty in his eyes.

"But what, sweetie?" She coaxes, softly now.

"I don't know how to talk to girls." He finishes in a small voice, somewhat lamely. The tension breaks as Penelope laughs, a strange sort of relief settling over her.

"Oh baby," she chides, "aren't you talking to one right now?"

When he goes all quiet again, she takes his thin hands into her own, feeling the curves of his delicate bones and the soft warmth of his skin.

"You'll do fine."

"But—"

"Enough with the buts! No more buts!" He glanced up at her, a small grin pulling on his lips.

Penelope exhales loudly then throws open her arms. Spencer just stares at her, looking mildly confused.

"C'mon." he raises an eyebrow.

"What, have you never had one of Penelope Garcia's famous hugs?" she flaps her arms, "They're known to cure any disease or ailment known to mankind."

"Garcia, I don't—"

"Spencer Reid."

Begrudgingly, he leans forward and allows her to pull him close. Penelope squeezes him slightly, taking care to not accidentally jar his ribs or stitches. Spencer stiffens at first touch, but after a while, he relaxes into her embrace.

"Garcia." She feels him murmur into her hair.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for what I said." He says quietly. "I didn't think the thing through. Sorry if I hurt you."

"It alright, darling." She presses rubs his back comfortingly before pulling away. "I forgive you."

The smile on his face is so worth it.

After a moment of silence, Spencer's eyes fall away from hers.

"Spit it out, Boy Wonder." She teases slightly, a small smile on her face, "I'm the Empress of All Things Wonderful; I can tell that you have something to say."

He hesitates for a beat. Then—

"You give nice hugs."

The statement catches her off-guard. The boy's expression is embarrassed, shy almost, but his tone is soft, contented. Penelope's never heard him sound like that before. Suddenly there's something in her eye. Dust. Maybe a twig. Or a branch.

Wordlessly, she pulls him back into her embrace. The soft laughter that leaves his lips is one of the most beautiful sounds she's ever heard.

"Thank you." Comes a whisper so quiet that she almost misses it.

"Anytime, sweetie." Penelope pulls him even closer, inhaling the clean scent of his soap and coffee, "Anytime."

* * *

**A/N: **

_**I'm sorry for posting this a day late, AGAIN. Real life really has a knack of getting in the way of things. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this, I have nothing much to say, except that the next update might come in about 4 to 5 days because my exams are coming up and I really need to study. Thanks for reading everyone! and thank you all for your lovely reviews as well.**_

_**BYE.**_


	18. comfort in the knowledge

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

She slips into the room, quietly. No one seems to see her as she moves to the corner, eyes fixed upon the man on the bed.

Lila glances over at the door, where Agent Greenaway (—_Elle. The agent wanted her to call her Elle_—) and Garcia (_a bubbly, colourful, blonde who talked very fast when she was excited_) are standing by the open door. The technical analyst eggs her on with an impatient gesture while the other agent just smiles.

Spencer is deep in conversation with a woman and Agent Morgan, who are both standing beside his bed, backs facing her. They seem to be discussing something; occasionally Spencer says something, which Morgan immediately disagrees with.

Then Spencer's gaze shifts from Morgan to the doctor and he catches sight of her and stops.

"Lila." She flushes slightly and fidgets with the strap of her handbag when the other two turn to look at her. The doctor seems a little surprised, but Morgan has a strange look on his face. Lila tries not to look at him.

"Um…"

An awkward pause permeates the room.

"It seems you have a visitor." The doctor finally says. Spencer's face seems to redden slightly even though the doctor's tone is even, amused almost.

"Agent Morgan. Perhaps we could take this outside? I'm sure Aaron Hotchner would like some say in this."

"Okay, Doc. Lead the way." Agent Morgan turns to Reid as the doctor moves past them, to the door. She sees the agent point an accusing finger at the younger man. "This is not over, kid. We'll discuss this later."

"Morgan, be reasonable –"

"Later, kid."

And then they're all by themselves, in the room.

Again.

She pushes down the urge to glance towards the doorway and check if Penelope and Agent Greenaway are still there, but there's something about Spencer's eyes that's keeping her from looking away.

"Hi." She manages, finally. It comes out small and meek.

Spencer lifts his hand and gives a tiny awkward wave. This makes her smile.

"Would you like to sit down?"

She nods. Lila can feel his eyes following as she sets her bag on the floor and settles into the chair.

"How are you doing?" comes the question. Spencer's eyes are bright and hard to look at.

"…I'm okay."

"You don't sound… okay." The boy replies haltingly, unsure of whether he's saying the right thing. She can see him fiddling nervously with the corner his blanket and fights the urge to grab his hand.

"Well… I am." She finds herself giving him a once over, looking for any indications of past injuries, praying hard that what Maggie did didn't cause any new ones.

She can't really see the bandages anymore; Spencer is wearing a faded looking t-shirt which looks about 3 sizes too big for him. They've also moved the IV to his left hand. There is a bandage on the back of his right where she had taken the cannula out. He looks more tired than he did when she last saw him, but at least this time he wasn't in pain.

"How about you?" she asks, "Are you okay?"

He shrugs lightly. The gesture is nonchalant, but she notices him pressing his hand to his side.

"… does it hurt?"

His hand drops away quickly, "it's fine. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt."

She stares at him, disbelieving.

"I mean," he corrects, sheepishly, "it doesn't hurt. Not as much anymore. They gave me… stuff to get rid of the pain."

Their eyes flit to the dripping IV at the same time. Ah.

"Listen, Lila—"

"No, wait." Lila cuts him off, quite suddenly. "I—"

The words won't come out. Why won't they come out?

Unable to look Spencer in the eye any longer, Lila dips her head to stare at her shoes. Those are the ballet flats that Agent Jareau had brought for her, from her apartment. She couldn't go back there yet because it's still a crime scene. They were a little too small and they pinch so she stares at them, trying to stare the tightness in the shoes go away and make the words come out.

Her breath hitches just as he shifts over to the far side of the bed, patting the empty spot created.

"You can sit up if you want. The nurses don't mind; Garcia and JJ always doing it." She obliges, sitting gingerly at the edge of the bed.

"Lila." Spencer's voice is gentle, calming. "Lila, look here."

She turns her face up slowly to face the young man. The cold air makes her damp face sting and her tears come even faster.

_God, Lila. Don't you ever get tired of crying?_

"Lila." His hand finds her wrist. The steadiness of his grip echoes the look in his eyes and makes her chest tighten with emotion.

"It's not your fault, Lila."

Something inside her breaks. Before she knows it, Lila is wrapped in Spencer's embrace. She can feel his warmth like a tattoo against her body, smell his distinctive scent of coffee and clean soap as her tears stream unconsciously down her cheeks and into his shirt.

He holds her gingerly for a while, uncomfortably almost. Lila knows it's because of the wound and his ribs; she can feel the rough layer of bandages under the thin fabric of his clothes. When the tears ebb she pulls away as gently as she can.

"I'm so sorry," she stutters, wiping her eyes, "You're still hurt, I wasn't thinking. It must be painful. I'm so sorry."

"Lila." The smile he gives her makes her want to burst into tears again. "It's ok. I'm fine."

_I'm fine._ The expression on his face sends a wave of nostalgia through her. He had the exact same look in his eyes when just before Maggie—

"Do you remember what happened?" she blurts out, before she can help it. The question seems to catch Spencer off guard.

"I…" she drops her eyes, "Your friends… they keep asking me about it. I'm more that willing to talk but even after I'm done, I can't stop thinking about what happened. I can't stop thinking about it. For the past few days, it's just been hours and hours of what-ifs chasing each other about in my head. I don't know what to do."

"I…" he starts, then stops. Lila doesn't want to look at his face but something in his voice makes her glance up, "I… remember almost everything. I don't remember when you came in but I can remember almost everything else after that.

There is a lump in her throat. She tries to swallow it away but it is stuck.

"When Maggie pulled out the tube…" He hesitated, checking her expression. She nodded for him to continue. "When she pulled out the tube I remember there was a lot of pain, but I didn't pass out just yet, my remaining lung was still trying to support my body by itself. I had just enough left to wait until you two were gone before I could pull out some wires and hopefully get some attention. Then I blacked out."

He hesitated, trying to read Lila's expression. She nodded for him to continue. "By the time I woke up, the nurses had found me, you were gone, and well, I woke up, so that meant that I wasn't dead. Which is good."

The silence that falls after that rests heavy on Lila's shoulders.

"What happened after you all left?"

"Didn't the rest tell you?"

"No." He says, scrunching up his face a little,"They all rather not say. Something about the doctor giving them orders not to agitate me."

His disdainful expression makes her giggle. Spencer's eyes go soft, holding her gaze.

"Besides, I would much rather hear it from you."

"But…" she struggles for a moment, "Why?"

"Because." Comes a reply. He shrugs awkwardly, shyly averting his gaze, "Just because."

Lila has no idea what she should say. "I…"

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, though." He says hurriedly, "I mean if it's hard for you to talk about, then you don't have to tell me anything—"

"It was at the gas station." Lila whispers, cutting Spencer off. "Another gas station. We dropped by one before we came to the hospital because I said I wanted to use the washroom, but I actually just needed some time to write that… note."

The young agent doesn't say anything so Lila stops and looks up. Spencer is staring at her, face open and honest and eyes warm and encouraging.

"I… I didn't know what to do. She was going to drag us out of LA and I was running out of time but all I could think about was how I… how I led you to her. How she killed you. How _I_ killed you." The girl blinks hard, chiding herself tiredly when a tear slides down her face. She is so sick of crying.

"I think I looked at the TV too much. I don't know. I just wanted to know you were ok, to see if there was any news, but there was nothing. I didn't know Lila was watching me. She started to act a little strange after the stop at the gas station and when she started shouting I thought that was it for me. I thought she was going to kill me."

Spencer slips his hand into hers. His touch is gentle, a little awkward, but comforting. That one gesture speaks to her in more ways than she could imagine and she knows he understands.

"After that—" to words get stuck in her throat. In her mind's eye she can see the semicircle of police vehicles surrounded her and Maggie, lights flashing like it was Christmas and guns, all those _guns_, levelled directly at her. She can feel Maggie's thumping heart, beating against her back and her friend's desperate shouts in her ear.

"May I?" She has forgotten that Spencer is sitting right in front of her. Lila blinks, eyes taking in his apprehensive expression before going to his right hand, which is stretched out halfway, towards her.

"What?" his eyes flit to hers briefly, before going to a place on her neck. That's when she remembers. The bruises. There is a huge purplish finger marks where Maggie grabbed her, holding her and keeping her from running. They didn't appear until yesterday, and it was too much of a chore to cover them up this morning so she had neglected to do so.

"Oh! Oh. Um…" she runs a hand nervously along the lines in the blanket, smoothing them out. Spencer waits patiently.

Lila nods.

He brushes her hair out of the way to look at the wounds, face strangely melancholic.

"Do they hurt?"

"Not really. Not anymore." Suddenly his cold fingers jerk and make contact with her skin, sending a spark of electricity running down her spine.

Then suddenly he's retracting his hand and moving away from her, flushing slightly. They lapse into a stiff silence, with Spencer rubbing his neck awkwardly and Lila trying not to blush, feeling like a 15-year-old all over again.

"So…" her mouth feels strangely dry, "What were Morgan and the doctor talking to you about?"

"Ah... I put in a request to be discharged, they were fighting me on it."

The corner of her mouth twitches at the thought of Spencer fighting with Agent Morgan.

"Why? Do you want to get discharged, I mean." She adds quickly. "I mean, you're not well yet, right?"

"That's what they told me too." Spencer wrinkles his brow, "But if I stay Hotch will have to remain with me while the rest go home. I hate keeping him away from his family for so long."

It takes a moment for the statement to register.

"They're going back? When?" she says, feeling her heart sink. But there were so many things that they've not yet sorted out, so many holes and gaps to fill.

"Tomorrow."

"How about you?"

"Tomorrow as well, if I manage to convince Morgan. If not, in a few days. I'm not clear to fly yet." He waves his hand carelessly at the oxygen unit beside his bed, "The doctors say my lungs won't be able to take the pressurized air."

"But… why the hurry? Don't you like it here?" the words tumble out of her mouth before she can help it. She find herself reddening at how immature the question sounds

"It's… not that. LA's just fine, I like it. It's just…I need to get back to my life. We've never been in away for so long, we often don't stay more than 2 or 3 days in the cities we have cases in. The files are piling up back in the office too and the deadlines are around the corner. And besides," He shrugs, making a small gesture to his hospital room, "I am getting really sick of these 4 walls."

Her stomach flips. There's a lump in her throat but she doesn't know why. She doesn't know why she feels so… lost.

"Lila?" a voice cuts her train of thought short. She turns around.

It's Agent Jareau; she's put her head around the door and is looking straight as Lila.

"Your manager is here. She said something about… an interview? For some show or something."

Lila's heart plummets to the pit of her stomach. She'd forgotten all about that. Her agency had allotted her a new manager, Sally, a few days before; the woman is nothing like Michael.

"But I—"

_I'm not ready to leave. If I leave now…_

Lila glances back at Spencer in the most subtle way she can manage. He's looking at her with a strange expression, disappointed, yet almost resigned.

"She says it's important. I don't know how much longer Garcia and Elle can hold her off."

"It's ok, JJ. She'll be out soon, give us a moment." The other agent replies quickly. Her head drops in a nod and Agent Jareau disappears once more.

None of them utter a single word as they look back to each other. Lila doesn't know what to say, and she can see that Spencer is struggling with his words as well.

"So." He finally manages, "It seems you have to go now."

"Yeah…"Suddenly an idea sparks in her head.

"Wait." The young man watches her in puzzlement as she slides off the bed quickly, reaching for her handbag.

"Here." A black sharpie and a notebook are thrust into his hands. Spencer looks at them then back at her, then back at the objects.

"What am I supposed to do—"

"Your address. And your phone number." She blurts. Somewhere in her mind, the irony of the situation strikes her. Everything is reversed, usually she's the one who people ask for addresses and phone numbers, but now…

"What for?" he asks as he flips open a page and starts scribbling.

The words 'so I know where to find you' are on the tip of her tongue, but instead she says, "I don't know. To send letters, Christmas cards. Or, if I happen to be in Virginia, I can drop you a call and you can give me a tour?"

Lila searches his expression nervously.

"Ah.. that's a good idea." He scrawls a barely legible phone number to end off but instead of handing the book back to her, Spencer flips to the next page and with a startling amount of force, tears out the next page of the book.

He puts the book and pen in her hand and hands her the empty sheet of paper. Now it's Lila's turn to look confused.

"Go on." _Go on what?_

He jerks his head at the blank scrap, "Your turn."

There's a feeling that wells up in Lila that she can't describe. it is warm and fuzzy and makes her smile uncontrollably as she pens down her name and address.

"There."

Just as she passes the paper back to Spencer, her manager, not Agent Jareau, appears at the door.

"Lila Archer," She sounds like her mother, "Enough stalling. The TV station is calling and I I do not wish to argue with anybody, not today."

"Okay, okay…" she slides off the bed, ducking her head so she doesn't have to look at Spencer as she packs her things with deliberate slowness.

"Lila." The sharp voice of her manager cuts through the sudden stiffness of the room.

"Coming."

She straightens up only look directly into Spencer's soft brown eyes.

"So… I guess this is goodbye?" he says a little too cheerily, trying to smile.

"For now." Before he can stop her, she closes the distance between them and presses a quick kiss on his lips. She doesn't know where that came from, and from the stunned expression on the agent's face, he doesn't either.

"Thank you."

As she hurries out of the room, all red in the face and bracing for her manager, a reply comes from behind, quiet, calm, but as clear as day.

"You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N: **

_**I know I know, I'm so totally late. Sorry, but I've just been crazy busy and bogged down with a lot of things. I come home totally trashed every day, I fall asleep so fast that the next thing I know its the next day and I have to do everything all over again.**_

_**I'm still working on the next chapter. I promise I'll get it to everyone in a week's time! And that'll be the last chapter, followed by a short epilogue. Thank you everyone for sticking to this story, sorry for taking so long to post this one. Have a good week ahead!**_


	19. a quiet closure

**Summary: Episode Tag to 1x18 'Somebody's Watching'. What would've happened if Maggie Lowe didn't back down?**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor the premise.**_

_**Warnings: ****Awkward sentence structures, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes. **Blood, shameless whumpage and h/c because it's the only thing I know how to write. And angst. God. So much angst._

**Read if you dare!**

* * *

The room is quiet. Aaron sits at the corner, lounging in the armchair and poring over a stack of reports. Occasionally, he glances up at the young man resting in a slightly inclined position on the bed, just to check if he's still there and he's still sleeping.

An hour into his reading, a voice interrupts, sounding hoarse with lack of use.

"Hotch?"

He turns slightly to see Reid looking blurrily at him, clearly not fully awake yet.

"Reid. You shouldn't be up." Aaron knows that the boy has had a long day; He heard from Morgan about the conversation he had with Garcia earlier, which was followed by a visit from Lila. The boy has done a lot of talking and has handled himself very admirably for the past 24 hours, but now he should be getting some rest.

"What time is it?"

"It's 4am. Reid." The leader intones gruffly, not even looking at his watch to check, "Go back to sleep."

The boy's brow crumples in confusion, "Why should I? You're awake."

"That's different." He pushes down the urge to sigh. Reid has the worse timings when it came to arguments. "Sleep, please."

"An average adult in America sleeps for about 6 hours and 27 minutes. The recommended hours of sleep an active healthy person over the age of 18 should get it ranges from 7-9 hours. I've been asleep since Lila left, that puts me at almost 13 hours of downtime in the past 24 hours, seeing how everyone keeps making me sleep." The boy sounds a little annoyed, but seems to be gradually becoming more awake.

Hotch sighs inwardly and shuts his file. If the boy has the energy and clarity of mind to argue statistics then it's likely he's not about to sleep anytime soon. He should be one to know, because Jack gets this way sometimes; somewhere between waking him and Haley for milk and falling back to sleep, there is an hour or two in between where the kid seems to just decide that he doesn't want to sleep just yet, even though it's probably some ungodly hour in the morning. Like now.

"What do you want to do then?"

"Why does staying awake constitute me actually doing something?"

"Reid. If you really have nothing better to do, I will have no choice but to ask you to go to sleep." Reid opens his mouth to argue, "if you refuse, I'm sure the nurses will be more than happy to give you something that will help."

The young agent's mouth tightens to a straight line. Aaron is overcome by a strange feeling that he's reprimanding a child. "Fine. I want to talk. What are you reading?"

"Reports." He turns one up slightly so Reid can see, "From the last few cases we've been on."

"Mmm." Reid cranes his neck slightly, "Is mine in there?"

"No. these are mostly mine and Gideon's. I cleared most of yours last week."

"But I handed them in two weeks ago. You got through them that fast?"

"No, it's just that you hand in your paperwork faster than anyone else, so sometimes, just when my desk is clear of the previous cases files, your new ones come in."

As if by clockwork and impeccably done. Being Reid's tutor must have been a breeze back when he was still schooling. The only complaint they would've had, he thinks, was probably about his atrocious handwriting.

"Sorry."

Now that is unexpected. Aaron straightens up, "What for, Reid?"

"I don't know." He gives a half-shrug and the leader notes that he's pulling the blanket closer to him, like he's shrinking away. "You keep a lot of late nights in the office. If my reports come in every time you clear your desk it must be really bothersome."

"Reid." And edge of exasperation creeps into his voice. If he didn't know the kid better, he'd think that he had a low sense of self-esteem but he knows that isn't the case. He knows Reid just feels responsible for everything that goes wrong, even if it's not his fault.

Which usually, it isn't.

"… I'm doing it again, aren't I"

"Doing what?" Aaron leans back, setting the pen down.

"The thing that JJ hates that I do. Garcia hates it too, I think. Morgan thinks it's stupid."

"Doing what, Reid."

"… Apologising for things that aren't my fault."

The answer is silent, like a murmur in that melts into the quiet humming of the machines. Aaron suddenly notices that there is an absence of beeping from the uncharacteristically silent heart monitor. Reid probably got the staff to turn the sound off; it does get a little annoying after a while.

"Yes. You don't have to apologise for everything, Reid."

"I'm s—" he stops himself in time. Their eyes meet and, unconsciously, both men break out into grins. Even Aaron can't help himself.

"Okay. I get it. I'll stop."

"Good."

Aaron's phone rings; he startles slightly. Reid doesn't jump, but his eyes flit immediately to the source of the sound.

"Sorry, I've got to take this…" the boy nods and he picks up, thinking that it's likely Haley, checking in as usual.

It's not. It's actually Garcia; He gets bits of JJ and Elle talking in the background as their technical analyst asks for updates on Reid. He gives it to her and can't help but notice the distinct relief in her voice when she hears he's doing fine, been sleeping since they came to take Lila away. Well, not anymore, but what the woman didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Immediately after Garcia hands up, a call from Haley comes, as expected. His wife asks after Reid. Aaron can hear worry in her voice, which is a little unexpected but not quite, seeing how the Hotchners sometimes saw the young doctor over for dinners.

After listening to gurgled goodnights from Jack (who probably doesn't understand what he's saying either way), he hangs up and turns back around, with the intention of checking if Reid had fallen asleep during his calls.

Only to find the kid staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright.

"What? What is it?"

"Was that Haley?"

He raises an eyebrow at the boy, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

"It was."

"Is she wondering why you're not back yet?"

"No…" Aaron replies slowly, sensing a slight shift in Reid's body language, "She was asking about you actually."

The other agent goes silent. He averts his eyes from Aaron and stares at a spot on the wall. The leader watches as Reid twists, untwists, and twists the corner of the blanket, like some sort of nervous tic. His lips are pursed together, like he has something he wants to say but he isn't sure if he should say it out loud.

Finally, Aaron breaks the silence with a low, stern tone, "Reid. I know what you're thinking."

"Ok, ok. But I hadn't gotten hurt—"

"Reid?"

"Yessir."Comes a feeble reply.

Aaron walks over to the bed. Reid sits up straighter and turns to face him as he takes a seat. The hard plastic chair is cold against his back as he stares at the boy who refuses to return his gaze.

"Reid." He still has his head down, "Reid, look at me."

There's a pause, then he obeys.

"Morgan told me what happened this afternoon. Not," he adds quickly, "with Lila. I mean with Garcia."

He visibly deflates at the mention of the incident.

"She told Morgan?"

There is a pause.

"No." his brow furrows in confusion. "She told JJ, who discussed with Elle, who talked to Gideon and Morgan about it."

Reid looks like he wants to dig a hole and hide himself in it.

"It's not that bad—"

"Are they mad?"

Aaron is slightly thrown off by his answer. "What?"

"Are they mad at me?" he asks again, looking a little strained in the dim lighting, "I shouted at Garcia. I shouldn't have. Are they angry?"

"Reid," he sighs for the second time. This boy will be the death of him. "They're not angry. They're just worried, that's all."

The kid doesn't reply. Aaron decides that he doesn't like it when Reid goes all quiet. Reid's silence makes throws him off, makes him unsure. He can't read Reid when he's quiet and that unsettles him.

"Reid."

"Hmm?"

"Talk to me."

"What? Why?"

Hotch gives him what he thinks is a you-know-what-I'm-talking-about expression, but judging from the sudden apprehension in Reid's eyes, he suspects it came out a little more severe than intended.

"There's clearly something on your mind."

"Mm." Reid shifts uncomfortable against his pillows, "Hotch, what happened with Maggie, in the end?"

For some reason, an alarm goes off in the back of Hotch's head. Whatever he thought he was expecting, it definitely was not this question.

"Didn't Morgan tell you what happened?"

"No one will tell me." Now he sounds a little glum, almost forlorn, "Morgan and Elle told me they'd tell me a little later, but they never did. I was asleep when they came around and they left before I woke. Garcia and JJ don't know the details, neither does Gideon."

"I tried asking Lila, but she's still shaken by the whole thing. I need to know, Hotch. I've been lying here for the better part of two days and I still have no idea what's going on." The boy finishes, a little breathlessly.

"Reid." Hotch tries to sound stern but the word comes out more worried than he wanted, "Its alright. I get it."

"Yessir." Reid lets out a small cough and winces when it jars his injuries.

"Please remember to breathe too."

"Ok." Reid takes a deep breath before continuing slowly, "So, back to the question. Will you tell me what happened then?"

"I'm not sure if this is an appropriate time and place to talk about matters like that—"

"Hotch," the younger's eyes are staring straight into his and he can't avoid it, can't look away, "Please. I need to know."

"… Alright." His heart caves a little when he sees Reid's face light up.

"Start from just after you all found me at Lila's place. I need to know everything."

The memory almost makes Hotch grimace, but he masks it with a curt nod.

For the next two hours, Hotch recounts every detail he can remember from the evening it all went wrong. It is the longest and possibly most difficult narrative he has ever delivered to anyone and he doesn't know how he managed to remember so much.

Reid stays quiet for the most part, interjecting only with important questions and makes no redundant comments whatsoever.

He falters at the part where he shot Maggie.

"Maggie wasn't about to let Lila go. So while Morgan and Elle tried to get her to put down the gun, I saw the shot and I took it."

There is a palpable silence and Hotch thinks if no one says something he might explode.

"You shot her?"

He gives a short, almost imperceptible nod because there's a lump in his throat.

"Is that all?" Reid shifts against the pillows, eyes fixed at his boss. "So you shot her and it ended?"

"Yes." He forces out. There's a nagging alarm in his head, telling him that he should move on, get on with it before-

"Hotch."

"Hmm?"

"You're not hiding anything right? That's all that happened right?"

Silence usually means consent, but not to a profiler. Silence to a profiler means spaces filled with unspoken thoughts, layers upon layers of meaning.

"Hotch?"

"Its-" there is a eerie feeling of blood rushing through his ears as his mind recalls what happened, almost second by second.

"I almost took the headshot."

The sentence hangs in the air like a heavy cloud. It is a very suffocating feeling.

"You almost took the headshot." Reid calmly repeats. Hotch's tongue feels like sandpaper so he nods, again. The weight of his handgun is pressing against his hip and the cold metal of other one is biting into his ankle.

"I-"

"Hotch."

He doesn't know where Reid got this calling-you-out tone accompanied with the single syllable that is his name but after this, he has to see that the boy kicks the habit.

After this.

"You've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened to me."

I know, but.

"No one saw it coming, not you, not me, not Morgan, not Lila, not Elle. I don't think Maggie," he hides a flinch at her name "even she probably didn't plan it. But in the heat of the moment, it just happened."

There is a plea in the boy's shadowed, hazel eyes as he stares back at Hotch.

"Reid," there's a hoarse edge to his voice and he's not sure where it came from, "I'm not saying I blame myself. I just..."

... failed you. In every way possible. I was supposed to be responsible, supposed to be level-headed, stable. I almost shot her, I already have so much blood on my hands, the years and years of guns and chasing and it frightened me that I'm not afraid to get my hands bloodied again. I wanted to shoot, I wanted and was convinced wholeheartedly that one person's death would bring us peace, ensure the safety of everyone. But it wouldn't, it would just eat away at our humanity and humility and integrity and I don't know why I was so ready to let that happen.

None of the words he wants to say leaves him. Instead he merely says, "I just can't do what you can. I didn't manage to talk her down."

With the way Reid is staring resignedly at him now, Aaron knows that the kid doesn't really believe him but is too tired to say so. But he says nothing, just nods stiffly.

A wavery sort of silence settles upon the chilly room as Aaron struggles behind his blank mask with what he's been wanting to say since he heard what Reid did to save Lila.

"Reid?"

"Mm?" The boy's eyes are bleary. Clearly he isn't going to last as long as he probably thought he could.

"You do know..." he considers himself for a beat, "you do know how... proud we are, right?"

"Proud?"

"Of you."

"Me?"

Aaron doesn't answer that, but instead places a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. The genius understands.

"Thanks." He whispers as a response, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Sleep." Is all he says. The room ebbs into a peaceful silence as he watches the boy shut his eyes. His breathing evens out in a matter of minutes and the boy's asleep.

When he's sure that Spencer is lost to the world of dreams, Aaron too sets down his reports, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes.

And after a long week of mindless worrying and sleepless nights, Aaron allows himself to be swept away by undisturbed, restful slumber.

* * *

**A/N: **

_**Aaaaaaand there we go. The last chapter. It's been a long time coming everyone, thank you so much for sticking to this. A huge shoutout to all those who faithfully commented week after week, chapter after chapter, even though the breaks were sometimes inconsistent and erratic. You have no idea how much your words mean to me. Thank you all.**_

_**A short epilogue will follow this, but I think I can safely set this as the last chapter. Once again, thank you for reading. **_

_**Till next time!**_


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